When she leans back with a contented fawn in her arms, he sits and stares at her for a long moment, struck by the sight of her affection paired against the young creature's absolute trust in her. It's a pity he cannot package such moments and sell them, or package her up with the fawns; there is something about the gentle scene that stirs long-stilled chords even in his heart -- or is that simply indigestion from last night's hard liquor?
" .. do not know," he murmurs to her, remaining crouched beside her, so still that the only sound he makes is the faint creak of leather when he breathes. "Wolves, perhaps." Another louder creak, this time as he shrugs. There is a pause, as the fawn regards her with its melting brown eyes and puts its little head on her shoulder, and then she will hear him sigh.
"I am in need," his big deep voice rumbles quietly, "of someone to watch over them while I am -- .. otherwise occupied." While he works odd jobs just to scrape together a little coin, though he does not say this. Let her think he is as prosperous as he wishes this new suit of his will make him appear.
