Mercy was hard to read sometimes visually but he caught the whiff of fear from her. He glanced over at her, resisting the urge to reach out and draw her in to comfort her. "Don't worry. You're still alive in the following months back home but you live up to being just like Coyote from the Native American legends. Trouble definitely likes you." He wondered suddenly, if she had come from later after the mess with Zee and the reservation murders if the walking stick would have followed her here. It was hard to say but he knew if the stick did come here it would definitely follow her around. Of course, the thought of the stick made him think about the man who had first stolen it and anger threatened to seize control of him again as he once more wished he could tear Tim apart.
Hearing her agree to think about it he nodded and relaxed more. He had a feeling she would agree if only to help him. But this had to be her choice here. Back home he had panicked that night on the way to his house from her trailer.
"Don't worry," he said in the silence as the van ahead of them began their long order. "Becoming pack isn't the same as the mate bond. You have to agree to become my mate before that bond settles in." Though back home with her not accepting it had put the pack on edge and he had done all he could to ensure it stayed together. Still, he hadn't had a choice. He had promised Bran to look out for Mercy and declaring her his mate kept her safe from his pack.
As the van finished and began pulling forward, he looked over at her. "What did you want to eat?"