"Ah, good on ya," Irving comments good-naturedly though he will refrain from admitting that the idea of a pack makes his stomach sour. Too many bodies in one place. He would rather be on his own as lonely as it got, he survived. The occasional interaction, such as this one, sufficed enough that he didn't feel the stabbing pain of loneliness too often. Before he could dwell too long on emotions he cared not to admit, Beau was suggesting that they hunt a deer.
Now his interest was piqued. How long had it been since he had tasted deer? Too long! He ignores the quip from the fox because well, he's not fond of foxes anyway. Snarky and sly creatures they were in his opinion. Instead, he focuses on Beau, getting to his paws and stretching out his muscles with a long bowing motion. "Yer speakin' my language!" Irving says back with that cheeky grin once more. His tail is already twitching as he turns his pale blues toward the prairie they stand in. "Hows you wanna go 'bout it?" He asks, curious to see what tactic the wolf would have for hunting.
