"Way way." If Wolf was any more agreeable toward his charge, he'd collapse into a heap at her feet; butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, not with that smile. When Allyson had introduced them there'd been a bright, sardonic flash of humor on Wolf's part. He said nothing at the time, but his eyes shone with the repressed laughter of a grinning hound, tongue lolled with delight. Bunny and Wolf. This job couldn't get any better.
That she was bright and perky and all the things little girls were made of was just a cherry on top some glorious sundae. Maybe she did look like the delicate sort perfect for hooking tooth and fang into, but try as Wolf might, he found himself liking the girl. (And for what her roommate was coughing up in payment, that was an inclination Bunny's guard-dog could live with.) So playing along, curbing all his rough edges? Not the end of the world. Besides, he had bigger, more wily game to chase.
"After your arm heals, maybe." And then Bunny was off, dancing her way back and around him to shove her way into Sherwood Florists (using her good arm, obviously!). Wolf tensed for a fraction of a second, predatory game face sliding into place. It was gone as fast as it appeared, a blink and nothing left but a tall man taking long steps after a pretty blonde girl. The scent of florals hit him full in the face. Better than exhaust fumes and garbage day? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
He dropped a barely-there touch on Bunny's shoulder -- a wordless "hold on" -- before sliding past her into the shop. Was it safe? Almost certainly; it was a flower shop, not a betting hall. Better safe than sorry? Well, he was getting paid for this. Head cocked in that distinctly canine way he had, Wolf kept an ear open and took a quick whiff of the surrounding area. "Ring a ding, company's calling."