What A Waste!

The female no longer held much interest in his eyes. She was angry but she had reached her limit - there was no danger of her attacking him. If she was going to do that, she would have done it already. Tyberius was sure that the only further reactions he was going to get out of her were shock, outrage, and growling. Frankly, he was getting bored of that.



The male, however, drew his attention. Clearly he has some sort of hero complex, Tyberius thought, his eyes now turned toward the gray male. The male commented on his lost limb but that no longer held any power over him. Tyberius had been living with three legs for years now and was used to its ill effects. The male tried to pry, openly questioning how he'd lost the leg and hoping to connect it to Claudia's passing. The brute would never know how right he was. Tyberius had been prepared for this, however, and merely shook his head. "Born this way, baby." His tone betrayed a bit of the anger that was building up inside, but he hoped that the sarcasm would cover most of it. He knew that he was in no condition to spar again so soon. The side of his face was still sore from the beating the cream-colored female had given him and he wasn't keen for that to occur again. This time, it wouldn't be a spar. He'd be lucky if he got away with the rest of his limbs still connected.



Sour? Tyberius wasn't certain that his injury had made him this way. It was more likely something in his brain that had gone wrong, fizzled out, making him a reckless asshole. The male began circling him with teeth bared, snarls escaping him.



Apparently, the hero wasn't going to let this go.



"Well, I don't take orders. I think you'll survive another day without an apology," he began, turning his gaze to the female. Returning his gaze to the male, he continued. "I don't intend on leaving, so that's out. I'm not sure what you mean by 'open up', it sounds sexual. You're not that good-looking, buddy. And... I'm not coming to 'get it', so you're out of options. Guess it's time for you to pack up and leave. Do not pass Go, do not collect one-hundred dollars. You lose. Thanks for playing." He flicked his tail irritably, his ears turned backward. He'd only wanted to play his game, and now look what had happened.



It was likely that the male would leap on him and tear him down. Tyberius was getting used to the fact that he was nothing more than a punching bag for larger wolves. He was of medium frame but he was almost ten pounds underweight. Coupled with his missing limb, he was an easy victim. The conjured-up story made him smirk. He wasn't weak, nor was he a victim. He played his games and won them, if there wasn't some other wolf to come along and mess everything up.