How smooth does the obsidian girl twist, her body tight with well-kept power and rolling muscles as she turns and spins. It is no wonder that she is swift enough to divert disaster as he leaps forward, snatching the ear out of the air and feeling the whoosh of air beneath his belly only moments before he falls back down. His body coils down towards the earth then his legs straighten, the impact light and brisk, his own body honed from constant fights. Beneath that silky fur lies crisscrossed scars, patterns of claws and teeth from his Commander, but he was blessed enough with such silky fur as to cover and ripple across such spots.

It is no surprise when her teeth appear for this was clearly her spot, well kept, and the ear between his teeth was hers as well. It was rather reminiscent of the ear he kept in his own den, a tanned one that was a trophy from his first wolf meal with Sekhmet. Not his first kill, not by far, but it had been a taste of flesh and an experiment. So of course a trophy must be taken to remember such a monumental day with. Blackthorne stands with his front legs splayed out in a powerful stance, ear hanging out between his teeth to the side, and a slightly cocky smirk on his face as he stares at her, awaiting her reaction.

Suddenly she lunges and he recoils, rather enjoying this taunting game as he gets just out of reach, although the fangs that were aimed for his possession turned inward and upward and one tooth grazes his nose. A growl is given around the ear, a warning, ears falling backwards while his silver cowlick rises, backed by darkness, a warning in his charcoal eyes. She is confusing in that she does not seem outwardly furious, no aggression there, just a sort of fanatic curiosity and when she dives towards him, he dances to the side. Her nose nudges against his back paws as he moves out of the way and his head spins to face her, quite curious in turn about what she is doing.

Is mine, she says, and he grins again around the ear before tossing it up in the air and stepping back so that she could leap for it or let it hit the ground. "Fine, you can have it back. I have my own ear to play with." A wicked smirk while his gleaming eyes watch her. "Why have I never met you, lovely one? You have quite a bone store here. I have one too, in Iromar," he says conversationally, beginning to pad around the open space with a languid gait, eye always trained on her clinically, as if dissecting what made her tick.