Lion Head Mesa aluminum

gucci strived to maintain a calm, neutral countenance as the information came, and succeed in it. 

somewhat.

by how his eyes would slightly widen or narrow, his ears turn or pin, one could read his reactions as clear as letters on paper.

he'd never thought of the history of akashingo. raised in the human world where things like it usually had great longevity, gucci had always assumed generations of pharaohs had ruled the mesa before ramesses the second, maintaining it as idyllic as it appeared to him.

this was a revelation. an annoying smudge on the mental image of the pack - the kingdom - he'd carried in his mind, assuring himself akashingo had lasted long in its peaceful ways, and would shine on perfect so many years more.

something about the mien of miss tavina made him wish he had a lighter on paw to offer.

gruesome. horrific. the thoughts went through his mind as the actions of the deplorable leader of the saints were described (albeit a bit too graphically to not make his lunch churn within him).

as far as he was concerned, the barbarians had wholly deserved to have the might of three factions hail upon their heads.

and now a seemingly irrelevant person was brought up - but that's how they getcha! he leaned forward slightly, ready for this kind, gentle she to be revealed as naught more than charismatic spy or undercover assassin.

his friend rose, distraught, and gucci was building up anger to unleash once the likeable stranger turned out to be a persona.

but the dilemma turned out far more insidious than that. a, if the sesh had judged right, completely innocent soul trapped within a brutish war cult. gucci saw the conflict and desperate honesty in those violet eyes.

he inhaled, deeply.

then exhaled.

oh, christ on a cracker.

"a'ight." he nodded as he reviewed all the information just received, repurposed the righteous anger. "okay." he would've pinched the bridge of his muzzle had he the digits for it. "so. one who's, by definition, nemesis t' th' 'shingo, 's a victim o' the saints 'swell." jesus doin' jumpin' jacks.

"we could'a gone th' route o' sympathy, but if she's been wi' 'em so long, she'd be seen as, as someone wi' information. or value. ah... dread wha' our mournful pharaoh'd do t' such a person."

"then, we could lie. but a lie gets more complex th' more folk're involved. your honesty ahv yet t' see tested, but ah know mah shakes n ears show more than a cow's ass. this woman's word'd be disbelieved in any case."

"third option's outside help." now he was pacing too. tinktinktink. "ah don't leave lionshead much. you ah know go out, but not fo' sake o' diplomacy. so we could-" the chihuahua slowed, then speed up. "th' princess! one fram breh-chel-ee-ain't! ah could ask her a favour, ask 'em t' house a friend's friend. but that's if we can get th' woman out."

his heard turned sharply towards tavina. "we need t' git somethin' clear. season's 'bout passed. gimme your diagnosis; ya think she ain't leavin' coz she got kids there?"

my post're either two paragraphs, or *gestures upwards* that