Re: The Deck, toward the Bridge
He was surprised only for a moment, and in that moment he moved with oiled speed, twisting broad, thick shoulders around under the curve of his spine and rotating his entire body to face her. His sharp ears listened to the curious rattle of her smokey breath, and his keen eyes traced the constant movement of her inky skin. Making no attempt to communicate until he had taken her measure, he sat back on his haunches, one powerful thigh stretching out in front of him to support a heavily calloused knee.
Tarzan leaned into the breeze to take a deep sniff of the air nearest her flesh at the worst moment, and he got a lungful of her tobacco. He snorted, hacked, and shied back like a startled beast, eyes wide. He recovered faster than any beast, however, knowing as he did who he was and what he was (both, two separate things).
He swung his weight forward until he was inches from her face, and worked the bow of his spine up until he was more erect than his people normally managed. He took another sniff of her skin, and snorted again. How irritating it was not to have full powers of speech. "Where your tree?" He grunted, raising a pair of extremely bushy eyebrows.