you want me to walk her like she's your dog?

Wilder lets out a snort, a smirk marring his charcoal lips. "You can call it that," he muses, taking a step back to give her some space to move. Thankfully, he's a patient man. Though he doesn't have the courtesy or manners to not stare at her like a fucking weirdo, he does give her time to make it up and off the cot. His vermilion gaze roves over her body, watching how the bandages and scars move tautly over her skin and fur. Compared to his injuries, he couldn't imagine how badly hers must hurt.

Once Vesper is up and ready, he leads them out of the infirmary and toward the outdoors. Winter was finally coming to an end and though snow still blanketed the ground, it wasn't as cold as it had been in previous weeks. Preferring the fresh air over the musty smell of the warrens, Wilder nearly forgets that Vesper can't walk as fast he can. Even with his scars pulling and stretching at his own skin, he's a few feet ahead of her before he stops and looks back at her.

"Well, we ain't got all day if ya wanna escape," Wilder teases, clearly joking because he didn't need that sort of trouble on his tail.

WILDER