Promising. Ever so promising. Reynard had no intention of ever changing, why would he? Life his way was always an adventure and usually a quite satisfying one at that. He watched Eames tilt his head and so maybe it was no wonder that he leaned in to kiss his neck and - more importantly - nick it. Not quite enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. He'd just blame animal instincts and that would be close enough to the truth. He liked to smell his scent on the other fae, that was a simple fact.

"Just don't stop thinking about me for a while." No, it wasn't a modest request. Reynard knew himself too well to believe in modesty. He flashed a grin and finally stepped back, looking in the direction of the battle. "For now we might be running out of time."