When I die, I'll let go

When Absinth released him, he took a seat across from the white wolf. A part of him was still adjusting to the fact that she was actually here, with him. That she had made it to these distant shores, pulled herself from the gutter and become something more than a skittering rat. His removal from the gutter hadn’t exactly been his choice. Stolen away in the night, another cog in the wheel of slavery. His own freedom was relatively new, which perhaps why losing held a bitter sting. This match was low stakes, but there were some battles that simply could not be lost, at any cost.

“How could I deny such an eloquent request?” he replied smoothly, his eyes teasing her again before letting some of his shell fall away. “Do your heathens play like our street rats, Absinth? Or is their game a different sport?”


"Speech"