“You don’t like it?” he asked, his tone bemused as he swung a booted foot across the chair to take the seat and picked up his fork again. “I think it’s cool.”
He put a piece of meat in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully for a moment. He ate with those little jerks of his head like tearing flesh from tendon, his jaws working effortlessly. When he shifted, there were a great many pretty white teeth crowding his mouth.
Animal cracked a smirk at her, quirked a dark brow. He knew he was handsome in a disheveled punk basement nightclub kind of way, but more than that, he felt dangerous, wild.
“I’m new. And I don’t know what you are, or who,” he said. Bluntness was a quality people valued, right? Because tact had never been in his wheelhouse. “But you have a very... interesting smell. So I thought, fuck it. Go say hi.” He set his fork down, licked his lips. “I’m Animal.”