I finally managed to pull my gaze away from the poor man's groin and meet his eyes.
I really want to say yes. Ask him to bring back the big cute wolf beast. Everything was easier that way. It was easier for Danica to love her fur. That's how he saved me, watched me through the night, and even fired my other friends when they got too stressed out: with his fur.
He wasn't covered in his fur with the memories of his sins, and that meant I didn't have to face them.
His question still hangs in the air, but my gaze follows the gnarled scars that run from the top of his brow to his cheekbone and neck. They move over a chest and shoulder, down his arm and halfway across his stomach.
I think if I had asked him to come back, they would have been on his back.
"W-how did you find them?" I ask myself, unable to help.
