When I die, I'll let go

Flare gave an appreciative grin at that, remembering all the times her sass had gotten them into trouble on the streets. Where did she think he’d learned his terrible humour from? He settled down, watching her, and comparing the wolf before him to the somewhat scrawny one of their youth.

When she said his name, he flicked an ear, curious what direction her conversation would go. She described her heathens, and he considered that for a moment. For them, the street rats had been safety in numbers, a shared misery and all that. But they’d had fun, too. They’d gotten themselves into mischief more times than he could count. He also realised that in seeing Absinth, he was a little reluctant to let go of their shared history so easily. She had come from a simpler time in his life. “Your heathens recruiting?” He asked slyly.


"Speech"