Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach

getting him a little flustered wasn't her intention, but she didn't hate it, because it yielded at least one result: the man was perhaps named donovan, and if she could name a sleazebag, she could kick a sleazebag in his sleazeballs when he approached her.

tiercel didn't appear to notice or care that riley was under critical stress as she blasely watched him unravel, waiting for the kid to compose himself under her hard, hooded stare. "you haven't invested me enough to care," she said dispassionately. all she could pry out of the boy was that donovan bequeathed on him a pervy, gross pet name, and if he couldn't give her more than that, then it was none of her concern.

"i do find it doubtful a pack would allow you to use up their resources no questions asked. so i'd consider going back to your new pack and healing those injuries. or don't, and save yourself the molestation. doesn't matter one way or the other to me, i just don't want to be tangled up with you when they come looking for their peaches." she smiled thinly, almost sympathetically, but it was gone like water droplets in a hot pan. 

"yep." she confirmed his sulky qualm; no use in lying to him about it. "i have no interest this pack of yours, and you're a boy almost a grown man. you're responsible for yourself." esmé rose to her feet and took a step back towards the boar's lair, then remembered one detail she'd all but forgotten and paused midstep to wonder aloud, "last question. what'd you do to get targeted by those soggy tree wolves?" with wry amusement edging her lips and voice.