Re: The Deck, the other way
He grunted, the sound blending annoyance and reluctant tolerance together flawlessly, a sound he had learned from his mother, Tarzan's mother. Always tolerant. You had to be tolerant around Tarzan, otherwise you didn't get far. You either pissed him off and courted death, or you ended up with a hunk of raw meat on your doorstep because he had decided you were too weak to hunt for yourself.
He noticed when she wrapped an arm a little closer down the small of his back, and he was surprised to feel that he enjoyed that. It gave him warm fuzzy feelings in his chest. She was still a bizarre looking creature and he kept thinking about cutting the head off the snake that kept threatening him on her skin, but he liked her. He hissed at the snake before it disappeared, and then blankly returned the knife to its place when she returned it.
"Move slow on two feet," Tarzan grumbled, as he was pushed unceremoniously down the hallway toward warmer light.