I'M NOT SOME BOY THAT YOU CAN SWAY
Rapscallion finds Sunday rather intriguing to say the least but he is but an average man. Perhaps if he were born or raised around obvious magic, mythical creatures he wouldn't be so perplexed by them. He doesn't know that coming back to the Jungle is in and of itself dangerous for him. Scorch ruled, or so he's been told, with the conception that men can come and go basically as they please. He is too curious for his own good, luckily none of his nine lives have been usurped.
The buckskin smoothly makes his way across the Jungle's borders without a care, he means no harm currently although so far he has simply sat dormant spare the slight blip of ruling. He didn't rule though, Mountain had and unfortunately been murdered - so he hears. Rapscallion likes the way it smells here, the humidity and warmth is so nice compared to the Tundra he lived in for a couple of years. That type of chill stays with you for the rest of your life. "Sunday?" he says questioning, it's been about a year since Wichita and his first visit here when Scorch was well and they had recently lost their magic and tattoos. All of that talk was lost on him but he had gone home, chewed the fat of his lip over Sunday; there was just something. If he knew how to feel creepy, he would but some might find it an honor or charming. He's not in love or anything he wants to know about her to learn, mostly.
He's never known a woman to capture his attention until now.
