Waylon
“I’ll need proper pants if I’m to stay here for a time,” Waylon commented as he stood up from the table. “I’m not fond of these.” He waved his hand at the shorts he was wearing.
Ryder looked him over, and he knew she was wondering if there was anyone inside the pack that had clothes that would fit him. “That could be a problem. I don’t think we have anything in your size.”
“We do have a pack tailor,” Patrice commented. “Ryder, why don’t you take Waylon down and get him measured up for whatever he feels like, that way he’s always got clothes here if he rips through them.”
Waylon caught the amusement in Patrice's voice, and he smiled. He’d seen how they were all over Ryder, “I arrived naked, there was no destroying of clothes on my part. I don’t generally let my dragon out without
