just like a one winged duck

Tyrian wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but what he definitely hadn't been prepared for was the enthusiastic entrance Pestilence greeted him with. She ran at him like she was starving and he was in possession of the last meal in Boreas. He was not at all disappointed, no, rather he was just fairly certain that he himself was about to do the disappointing. All he had in store for her was a rank - maybe - and an interrogation - definitely - but now he felt a bit obligated to step up his game if she appeared disappointed with his agenda.

"You certainly are,"he said with a laugh. She'd gotten so close he could make out the detail in her eyes. Had he been so inclined she was almost within kissing distance. "I wanted to see how you're settling in and uh, perhaps if none of the higher ups have tested you yet," Hint Alarr, hint, hint. "See what kind of rank you're ready for." He had the beginnings of a plan in mind if she seemed disappointed with this. Maybe escorting one of the healers to the Gulley, guarding the flock as they were taken out of packlands to graze the Orchard or culling that ever growing coyote pack. He'd think of something.