Hideaway Strath let's store the pint of blood to cash in

A whistle catches her ears, flicking them to attention. The Grandmaster saunters up to her from his patrol, giving a spirited bump to her shoulder. Her tail wags and her nose presses up to his cheek, giving a lick of welcome. Since he escorted her to the Saints, she had been preoccupied attempting to make a dugout and getting a general lay of the land along with the other members. Meeting some typically ranked members and then encountering Nyra one evening, so far it had been going well becoming integrated back into pack life again.
 
At least knowing she wouldn’t tire of his suggestive nature anytime soon, Zsuzsa gave a huff. ”Hey, you still owe me yet, you know.” She stated coyly with a quirked black brow, giving a swish of her tail. The Acolyte wouldn’t hint at what she was speaking of, leaving him to recall the night in the cave where she said luring her back to the Saints territory would warrant a hot, fresh meal.