Fritjof's tail taps in response to her own waving tail. He sniffs as she extends her nuzzle, scenting the unusual allure, the draw. He hesitates only a second when she drops to a play bow before him, then responds with a bow of his own, tail high and ecstatic, wiggling before bounding away to incite a lively game of chase. His happiness bubbles to the surface in the form of a high pitched whine-yip, an invite to play, to be free, back to childhood.
This was not usually where Fritjof's focus in life is. More rank, safety, planning, and making friends. Not females. But she smelled delectable, and was he not on a break anyways? So he bounds in front of her, dropping to his elbows every few steps to encourage and check she is still there, still part of this game. His yellow eyes watch her vibrant figure, amber eyes watching and glad. |