Foul Temper

Sirius went on with his schpeel and Iolaire honestly couldn't believe it. His years serving the Empress must have been all fun and games. He didn't understand pack politics in the slightest. Iolaire's haunches folded and she brought one paw up to knead the area between her brows. He was like dealing with a child sometimes. "You think I'm going to broadcast weakness? Never once would I ask for help. Never once would any even have an inkling of weakness. I would come out of the situation with them owing us favors." It was good to see that he thought she was an incapable idiot. That was a point against him. Frankly, the lack of trust was rather hurtful. But what could she expect? They barely knew one another.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she spoke again. "Go rest your leg." She could go above his head. She could run her idea by Deathbelle. Ah, but she wouldn't. That would bring and irreparable chasm between them. Maybe he just needed time to think it over and realize how pig-headed he was being. In the end, just one alliance might save them all from starvation and death.