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"I'm as good as a bastard."
Did he mean to say that he was a bastard himself, or that he was volunteering himself to be just as good as any other wolf would be? She eyed him, and could not really tell. She kept her gaze steady; if he was a bastard, she might've possibly offended him and if he chose to punish her for her snippy comment...

But then he mentioned her. She'd been referenced a couple times now and each time she'd had the nagging feeling that he was looking to see her reaction. Was he fishing for sympathy or interest? 

But she saw grief turn his face inti something worn with grief. An expression she assumed he didn't allow to show terribly often; it changed his entire appearance. She felt him plunge, suddenly, from being the bear-king to being the victim of an untimely loss, a grief so great that it pushed him to madness. A beast to be pitied. 

She wasn't really fit to be someone's support system, and typically dealt with grief by supplying diversion or humour. So she settled next to him for warmth, so that he might at least find some comfort in the softness of her fur. And she uttered a dry, quiet chuckle. 

"Well, that's assumin' I c'n actually find someone who'll put up with me. I've been told a couple times before I can be 'a lot,'" She said with a soft smile.