"unless under that unassuming facade you're some kinda troublemaker?"
He couldn’t help but give a mischievous grin at that. “A s’pose ye could put it tha’ way, aye.” Now that he thought about it, what would Orsus or Isis have to say if they saw him now, drinking until he passed out, trespassing in other pack lands, harassing smaller animals…Orsus would have been ashamed, for sure, but that old man had killed himself, his opinion no longer mattered.
“Ye could sey Crew breeds a certain…mentality.” He said, looking considerably more relaxed than he had in the past few minutes. “Eet’s mare fer th’ rogues, the ne’er-do-wells.”
He continued. “Mysel included o’carse.” While Ruthgar was usually amicable, in the land he had been raised in he was nothing but trouble; a prankster in his adolescence and nothing short of a shit-stirrer when he reached maturity. It was only when his similarly unlikeable packmates had started to mock him for his scars that he began to close in on himself. Crew on the other hand didn’t seem to mind how he looked, and he suspected some might have even respected him for it, a suspicion that made his heart swell whenever it crossed his mind. Then again, the wolves where he was raied knew the reason for his scarring, and there, protecting another man’s pups and wife wasn’t so dissimilar to being cuckolded. While The Crew didn't necessarily hold the same beliefs they had done well to encourage the misbehavior he had before his fight with the puma, which suited the older male just fine.
