I’m not cut out for this

Wilder barely heard the quiet murmur of the healer over Basilisk telling him about the dens in the Col being the best places to stay. He's about to reply when the yarrow-infused tincture is splashed onto his wounds. The searing sting forces his teeth to clamp together, hackles raising and lips curling into a disgruntled expression. He fights the growl that threatens to burst from his mouth as he glances back at Oleander with narrowed eyes.

His wild upbringing and lack of socialization urges him to snap, but in the presence of the Warlord, a superior, Wilder at least knows better than that. Instead, he sticks out the tip of his tongue at the younger boy as his ears lay back against his skull. Don't bite the hand that... fixes? Was that an appropriate reminder?

Trying to stay distracted as the boy moves to stitch up the worst of the scratches, Wilder turns his attention back to Basilisk. "I ain't much for enclosed spaces, but I s'pose I'll make my decision after lil' Ollie 'ere's gave me a tour," Wilder replies, a grimacing grin spreading over his charcoal lips as he turns back to look at Oleander's handiwork. "Not s'bad," he mentions, watching as the boy applies some St. Johns wart and other items that replace the stinging and burning sensation with a calm, cool, and soothing feeling that allows his expression to smooth over into something more relaxed and pain-free.

Shifting his weight to be centered over his paws, Wilder stands as Ollie speaks. Both brows shoot up at the mention of meeting someone pretty. There had been someone pretty once upon a time but... he had commitment issues and leaving without notice had been easier than facing the truth. Instead, Wilder shrugs, brushing off the comment with a gruff clearing of his throat. "Let's start with a tour first, yeah?" Wilder replies, looking down at the smaller boy, waiting to be led wherever it was they were going first.

WILDER