But Where's the Rum Gone? [Steel]

Hascal could feel the burning red eyes delving into his back as he fished, could feel them appraising him, studying him. He saw nothing wrong with the way he behaved, and truthfully didn't believe that anyone else thought him strange - though it was obvious they did. Oh, to be oblivious. The boy hovered a good distance behind him, watching him as he caught the fish and tossed it back in his direction. Hascal would chuckle as the boy didn't even attempt to catch the morsel. It seemed this was a bit out of his element. The boy thanked him plainly and went about picking at the fish. Hascal could tell it wasn't something he ate on a regular basis. Still, out of hunger or politeness he began to chew on it, offering his name to the seadog. "Nice strong name," Hascal noted with a sea-rasped voice. "I'm new to this land," he offered before inquiring a bit more from the lad. "Be ye from here, or just passing through?" He had only met very few wolves since his landing on Alacritian shores, and he was interested to know those that inhabited this land. Had this lad been born here, or had he moved here with his family or on his own? It seemed he didn't live alongside the sea or he would be more familiar with it's inner workings - but Hascal suspected there was quite a vast inland portion of this land to inhabit.

"Speech"
'thoughts'