the teenage boy you used to be

One could say that Gilgamesh wasn't exactly an Alpha that respected borders. So when a familiar but not familiar scent brushed by his nose, his head kind of tilted for a moment as he stopped what he was doing. A visitor? Already? His curiosity is sufficiently piqued as he drops the driftwood he had been dragging and heads back toward the beach. Gil's posture is relaxed, albeit his lean figure is always somewhat tense these days. There was a lot that went into owning a pack and he couldn't help the niggling feeling of guilt he felt every time he saw Sparrow. Damn, why couldn't he just not have feelings?

Thoughts were cast away as he rounded the corner and he saw the dark-coated boy. His markings were definitely familiar and not necessarily in a good way. To his knowledge, Deluge had been the only one to help him escape from the Armada that night. She had not told him of any such boy - even though Gil had smelled him on her at one point. Frozen in his spot, his expression changed from curious to annoyed to perplexed to some sort of mixture of mischief and sly. Keeping his head held high like a proper leader, he approaches after those few moments of silence.

"I can't say you're exactly trespassing, but I hope you have a reason for being here," his deep tones rumble like a true villain. Always a slight snarl to the edge of his words as if he's smoked too many cigarettes and been punched in the face more times than he should have. He thinks of sitting but decides to stay standing because there is basically a 1% chance the boy might have the balls to try something. Yet, his body language stays relaxed as he gives the boy a chance to speak.

"speech"