Moray hums in acknowledgement as his color settles, returning him to this new and strange placidity. Like a crocodile that's learned to accept pets; never quite comfortable to be around, but undoubtedly better to be on the good side of. "If you ever carried more than a sidearm and half a leather vest, maybe you'd scare people enough they wouldn't try fucking with you," he offers, bemused. "Have nobody trying to punch your ticket at all."
He slides down against the pack beside him, basking in his drowsiness and letting his eyes slide shut. "Devon said he'd have a job for me when I brought you back, so I imagine I'll be around anyways. Looks like another team job. Let's just hope there are less old, stupid friends of yours this time."
Moray rolls his neck and stretches, catlike, as he rolls his joints and settles in for the night. He doesn't have a blanket aside from the camo, but the chill isn't heavy enough for him to use it, and even now, relaxed as he is, his left hand never falls far from the heavy stock of his shotgun. Hrolf comes to his feet and pads closer to the fire, in between the two humans, and settles down between them - far enough that neither can touch.
"Probably some fuckin' place he wants cleared out," Moray mumbles, as he drifts towards sleep. "Stop worrying. I'll kill things and you'll talk to things. We'll figure out which when we get there."
The 'we' no longer feels strange on his tongue.
He slides down against the pack beside him, basking in his drowsiness and letting his eyes slide shut. "Devon said he'd have a job for me when I brought you back, so I imagine I'll be around anyways. Looks like another team job. Let's just hope there are less old, stupid friends of yours this time."
Moray rolls his neck and stretches, catlike, as he rolls his joints and settles in for the night. He doesn't have a blanket aside from the camo, but the chill isn't heavy enough for him to use it, and even now, relaxed as he is, his left hand never falls far from the heavy stock of his shotgun. Hrolf comes to his feet and pads closer to the fire, in between the two humans, and settles down between them - far enough that neither can touch.
"Probably some fuckin' place he wants cleared out," Moray mumbles, as he drifts towards sleep. "Stop worrying. I'll kill things and you'll talk to things. We'll figure out which when we get there."
The 'we' no longer feels strange on his tongue.