For as crass as Chemdog can be, as rude and touchy, forceful even (at times), he stopped trying to drive mares home the archaic way. It once worked for him in older times than these, with the years passing liquidly to him, he has seen Beqanna and its inhabitants change in many ways. How fun it once was, he pondered, to gather your pretty girls by flattening your ears and biting their plump asses as they giggled and kicked.. or roared and fought, whichever you like better. Today though, that does not work. Things have changed, voices have been found, options have been broadened.
He fails to notice her hiding her cloudy eye, or her behavior to conceal it thereafter. He is daft to the notion that the pretty little thing might hide any such thing about herself. Of course he’s not very sweet, so he wouldn’t bother to tell her she’s pretty, that would just be too much of course, ha.
Another stallion comes forward, spotted, friendly enough looking. He pays Chemdog hardly any mind outright and the drafty stud is quite thankful for it, returning the indifference. He gives plenty of conversational room for her to respond, for the spotted stallion to add more. She doesn’t respond out loud, but she’s clearly listening. Her demeanor shifts when he mentions his home. The idea of roaming beside Chemdog did not delight her, and he could not blame her for it.
There was not much reason for him to linger, though he did love a good juicy eavesdrop. He gives her a half-hearted nod, and another to the Ischian stallion before moving off quietly northward.
