Volcano Pack:                 

Remi stiffened, ears flicking up as he caught the snarl, that customary smirk crossing his face as he slightly tilted his head, the curl of his lips showing his crooked fangs, and his sleek black body seemingly calm, though tense and rigid underneath the thick coating of fur the male possessed, his drawling voice, sounding like something a Texan might use out of an old western or story books, "What's the matter, Princess? Did I strike a nerve?" He could almost see the rise of her fur as he listened to the subtle sound of it bristling, caught the faint swish of air as her tail rose, ears flattening against her head while her own posture stiffened no doubt, though Remi himself continued to appear rather calm, and undisturbed the tension in the air, or the sudden turn of events. "Why so upset over one wee job? It's not like it involves yourself in anyway." His tone was smooth, even, despite the fact that his voice was the dry whisper of crackling leaves, the sound of death and decay on any given, normal day, painting a dark picture as to his personality, his role in the world, and of course, the twisted mental state that was the fragile sanity of his frail mind.

Remington paused for a mere heartbeat, realizing he'd lost track of Reaper, and his blind eyes were useless, though he twisted his head about in each direction as he hefted himself to his feet, rolling with a smooth fluidity that was previously unseen or unnoticed in the male, his thick fur bristling as he sensed the anger within, and the rage that Reaper held for him, though he could not possibly fathom why. She was not related to his target, was she? Remington didn't think so - not from what he'd been told, anyway, and besides that, he was really and truly after Reaper herself, not the pup he had so callously described. But she didn't know that. And judging by her reaction to his statement about being after the young assassin, he dearly and desperately did not want her to realize that he was after her instead; there was no telling what she might do to him. Normally Remi wouldn't have been worried - after all, he'd been doing this for years and he had been blinded for the latter half of his life now, having grown quite used to it. But this was not a normal circumstance - he had lost track of his prey. And now she was after him, a conclusion he came to as he was rather rudely aquainted with her teeth, her fangs driving deep into his shoulder and neck, Remington letting out a high pitched yelp as jaws met flesh, and he twisted with a snarl, snapping his own maw down up on her, what he could reach that, was. Which, given his current situation, wasn't much, but it was at least a little something to help provide him with some type and form of leverage, his crooked fangs digging weakly into her scruff as he had been forced back and reared up slightly, driven further by the force of Reaper's slamming momentum, though he knew he would not be able to hold the position for long, and then there was the knowledge that if he ended up on his back, with the vulnernable expanse of his belly showing, he was absolutely, tee totally, and utterly, royally, screwed.

Reaper bit back a whine as she lay down, keeping her ears back.

Locating her by the moth he had attached to the female, as the irritating little insect could track anyone the bounty hunter had attached it too, Remington noticed she was now lying down, with her ears flat against her head, the black surface of her shadowed body, a mere shade in his vision, shivering as if she were crying. He paused, fur ruffling from his shoulders down to his spine in a subsequent manner, wondering if he should approach, or if doing so would only rile her feathers even more. He determined the latter, and so merely instructed his winged insect to land lightly on her head by a small means of comfort, as though he was a complete and total jackass, he was not completely heartless. The tiny creature landed between her ears, right in the center of her skull, the soft beat of its wings tickling the ends of her midnight hued coat by means of letting her know that even if he were gone, Remington were still with her, at least in portion, and then the male's old form vanished, the equally black hued brute turning and heading back the way he had come, understanding he had done some damage today, and perhaps, even found a weak link in her armor. The only question now was, could he use it? Part of him felt guilty for doing this - his leaving the moth was a symbol of apology and keeping track of his quarry, yes, but in truth, it was also a manipulation to open doors of vulnerability in the female that others might not have seen or had the wisdom to experience, if one could deem such seeming stupidity wisdom in the long run. Perhaps crafty, at best, and sneaky, if one got right down to the point. But it was his job, and it was what he was here to do. He just had no idea as of yet how quickly his views would change, especially once he broke his number one rule and became close, and involved, with his prey.

Reaper tried to shake the stupid thing from her fur, not wanting to deal with the annoying insect. She hadn't expected to be so wounded by his words. She shook as her heart broke once again.

"Feel up to tryin' to make me, Princess?" Was his retort, though it lacked the usual sting or bite he slathered behind them, more of a hollow challenge that held no real venom in it. Remi flicked an ear, raising a brow as his blind eyes stared uncannily at her, lifting his head and tilting it slightly, his rough western voice drawling, "She? Have some history there, do we?"