Out of the Norm

It seemed that the jar of whatever he'd plucked from the stores was worthless too and Merrick internally seethed. Next time, if there was a next time, he'd make Keelin choose whatever they'd be taking. Try to do something nice and it all gets fucked up... He wasn't a cook, he just killed the shit. How was he supposed to know which meat was good meat and which meat was gross and seasoned? Once Keelin placed the jar back in the basket, Merrick pushed it away from them with one big paw. At least there was wine, he supposed.

Lifting the bottle, Merrick took a big draw, swishing the liquid in his maw before sitting it back down. He'd just unloaded a lot of information on his new 'mate,' so he gave her a moment to mull it over and sort herself out. He was being kind and generous. In the end though, it didn't matter. If she was staying with him, which she was, Keelin would have no choice but to provide him with children, which he would then murder. That's how it went. It was expected and he would do what was necessary to soak up this cushy life that his sister had provided.

Eventually Keelin agreed, though she didn't have to, and questioned him. Since they weren't eating and his attention didn't have to be on the basket, the marbled brute rolled into his hip, giving the brindled fae his full attention. "Usually it has to do with gifts," he clacked his big, obsidian talons together as an example. "If it doesn't look like any of the pups have gifts, then you just choose the on that you have the best feeling about." The man gave a shrug, speaking matter of factly as though they were discussing the weather. "I'm obviously not a father, so we'll see what happens, when it happens." He should have taken a mate and began producing new Mendaciums long ago, but he hadn't. No doubt it was frowned upon, but what the fuck did he care? He'd get to it eventually As long as he forced some woman to pop out at least one of his pups, he was filling the quota.

"Merrick Mendacium"