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

Wilder isn't the smartest when it came to being social. He didn't often think hard or long about the deep meaning behind someone else's behavior. Honestly, there wasn't often a filter there. He tended to be more of an 'act now, think later' sort of wolf and it was no wonder he had little to no friends. So when her words come out, he can't help but grumble again. "Ya know that ain't why," he shoot backs, brows knitting together even further as he tries to focus on not hurting her already surely painful wounds.

"I can keep twisting it around if it'll make ya feel bigger an' better than me," Wilder finally snaps, exhaustion riddling his own features as he pauses from applying the ointment to lean back and look her hard in the face. He's about to go off on her for being so wily and stubborn, but her open and honest admission leaves his speechless. His mouth drops open a tad, an exhaled sigh leaving him as he looks away and toward the floor. Good thing he had only made half an ass out of himself so far.

"I get the feelin' no one's gonna try to be hurtin' ya no more," he softs softly. Though the Warlord was intimidating and believed in the whole slave business stuff, he couldn't imagine Oleander sticking through with it. The boy was a healer after all and healers didn't do those types of things. Right? Would be kind of fucked up, wouldn't it? "I know yer prolly been through a ton of shit an' one conversation with a guy ya barely know ain' gonna fix much of anythin', but maybe me doin' these things for ya is kinda proof that I ain' got no bad intentions?" Wilder speaks tentatively, eyes slowly rising back up to look at Vesper, see what she was feeling in that moment.

WILDER