Alaric
Cricket was running a betting pool in my own mess hall on how long it would take Wrench to smile at my newest prospect, and the fact that I found that mildly funny instead of grounds for immediate punishment told me exactly how much this one particular prospect had already rearranged something in my head.
"Odds are three weeks," Cricket said, not even bothering to lower his voice as I walked past with my coffee. "Preacher's got money on never. Bear's staying out of it on principle."
"Bear's staying out of it because Bear's smarter than both of you." I didn't stop walking.
*[Preacher's wrong,]* Rook said, unprompted, entirely too invested in club gossip for an animal that supposedly didn't care about anything but hunting and territory. *[Wrench already likes him. You can smell it
