She spoke to him like an equal, like he understood every word she said - which he did, but not for the reasons Bethen thought he did - and at her question he flashed the cheeky equivalent of a canine grin, lolling his tongue, ears perked forward, coat fluffy as he could make it on moment's notice and yellow eyes twinkling with good humour. No, he wasn't going to listen to her, not as long as he wanted to grace her with his glorious company, and he got back up from his seated position to lean into her side again. For such a massive thing, his paws leaving enormous tracks in the parts of Lothering's square puddled with mud and dirt, he had an exquisite sense of balance and weight. That golden-furred tale made it through a slow half-wag, the wolf shamelessly mugging Bethen to make her smile -
- and then Ser Potbanger himself approached, and the wagging abruptly stopped, Garrett's ears going sideways, half-mast and on the defensive at the approach of what, to the wolf's mind, was another alpha male competing for Bethen's attentions. The stench of lyrium on the Templar was powerful; a full dose of the stuff less than six hours ago, if the wolf had to guess, and though the cool blueness of it pricked at his sinuses, he refused to give in to the reflex to sneeze, instead rumbling well into his chest, low and deep like distant thunder, less a threat than a warning in the language of humans who thought like canines, among whom Garrett grew up. You keep your distance, Templar, and I will keep mine.
And then, Thais arrived.
Garrett hadn't had a chance to thoroughly investigate the unique smells of each member of the camp yet; he was generally too busy winning over those who were naturally predisposed to liking dogs, or avoiding the lyrium-font that was Constans Ledaal and the Templar. Thais had yet to come under his attentions, and the first time Garrett got a noseful in close proximity to the Senior Enchanter, he didn't really like what he smelled. Then she started in with the insults - slobbering mutt and the like. Garrett had never been one to rein in his temper, but though his hackles rose on the back of his neck and his ears pinned back against his skull, there was no growling, no flashing of teeth or baleful yellow stare. Instead, the wolf padded forward, clearly irritable, veering a path around Thais to circle to her left and around behind, ending up on her right side and sniffing indecorously at the hem of her robes.
Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he lifted a leg.... and made to mark the Senior Enchanter as if she were merely a tree or an overgrown fire hydrant. So much for his thoughts on Thais Keigwin.