*** you with an anchor

Tyrian was in a fantastic mood. He'd met a rogue girl outside the packlands, been brave enough to ask to see her again, and after getting a shy yes in response he was riding an adrenaline high. He was feeling good but didn't have a good way to describe it. Feisty? Frisky? Scrappy? He just felt good, okay. Like really good. Like a goddamn hero. Like a man. He was in a strutting mood so that's exactly what he was doing as he made his way across the knolls. His head was held high, his chest was out and if not for the stupid shit-eating grin that wouldn't leave his face he would have been a damn regal sight.

He was still strutting like a rooster when he stumbled across Sparrow. His spirits were so high that her foul mood escaped his notice. It was such a nice day how could anyone feel any differently than he? Cockily he called, "Eyy pirate princess! I found something for you the other day that I think you'd like. Would complete the pirate look ya know? You could almost be twinsies with your daddy. It's about yea big," he measured out a reasonable distance between his forepaws. "And yea long," he used his paws to measure again. "And it has a hole right in the middle of it that you can slip your head through."

Tyrian canted his head to the side in mock consideration, then pressed on, "Of course if you stick your head through then the tail will hang down in your face..." He trailed off and the shit-eating grin returned. Oh, she was going to get a kick out of this. He'd been thinking about this joke for days. He'd even saved the ass skin off a buffalo just in case he could carry the joke further.

WC: 307