Not once had Farren even considered herself as socially awkward. Maybe once upon a time she may have come to that conclusion, but she was the type who got angry and blamed the rest of the world instead of letting it reflect on herself. If people didn’t understand or like her, then that was their problem. Not hers. If she had known the way his thoughts were running, she would have jostled him. It wasn’t his fault that he had to adapt to people who cared about him; it was his former pack’s fault. They were cold and unloving and abused Sam because he was submissive (or was he submissive because they abused him?). Farren just couldn’t abide by that. They sounded like the sort of pack who would have had a more vehement response to her non-mating stance.
“Good.” Farren nodded and rocked on her feet, unsure of what should happen next. This was why she didn’t have many sappy moments. Where did she go afterwards? Did you hug it out -- Dear God, no -- or just move on like nothing happened? She glanced over at Sam and decided he might suffer an infarction if she hugged him, which further pushed that thought out of her head.
“Okay… Let’s move this on out of the snack aisle or I’ll drop a fortune. We’ve got to get meat and the rest of these groceries before Mom accuses us of taking all day.”