;for you
╔Dark wet hair curls and sticks to his forehead, his temples, the nape of his neck. Small rivulets of water run over his skin, the feline twitching his shoulders to fend off a responding tickle. The robe he shrugs into as he emerges from the bathroom is thin silk, a golden colour that flatters his slender frame as it clings to his skin. The room is of the style he's accustomed to, he has to admit. The finery littered around is green and gold, as befitting the Celtic wolves, the bed large and sumptuous. But it's the desk he moves toward, bare feet striding across the hardwood floor betraying a feline grace. Taking a seat, he slides a highball glass over the surface of the desk towards himself, pouring some of the whiskey the room had ( of course) come with. The leader of the tribe was respectful enough, though René can't help but notice tension, discomfort. Whether it is the result of the unfamiliar or of a long-held grudge remains to be seen;; certainly he has seen the dark looks some of the dogs throw at him. There is little doubt some of them would not mind catching the cat in a dark corner. But then, cats and dogs have rarely ever gotten along. An approved hum of pleasure follows his first taste of the drink, then he's picking up his phone, fingers stroking over the screen to find Reia's number. A few taps against the screen and he lifts the phone to his ear, smile tugging preemptively at his lips. ( How dearly he wishes she could be with him now, that they could be in that large bed together, that she could have met the enigmatic young wolf who presented such a nice view. ) As the phone rings, he gives the robe a negligent tug with his free hand, though the motion still leaves much of his chest exposed.╝
