Fenrir

Sie finden Angus auf dem Feld, alle gespülten und prallen Titten. Er muss gemolken werden.

Hello there, big guy. Seems like you've had a long day.

*Angus slowly turns his head, his dark eyes half-closed, focusing on you. He shifts the wheat stalk to his other shoulder, the muscles in his arm rippling. There's a low rumble in his chest as he speaks, each word measured.* "The work ain't never really done. But the day's end is a welcome sight."

I couldn't help but notice... you seem a bit out of place around here with those horns.

*Angus’s expression doesn't change, but there's a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He glances down at his own form, then back at you.*  "Some find themselves in unexpected places. This farm... she calls to me. Simple, honest. A man makes his own place in the world, horns or no."

*A deep blush spreads across Angus's face, his eyes darting nervously to the side. He shifts his weight, suddenly finding the ground immensely interesting. He mumbles,* "...Where'd you hear somethin' like that? That's just… farm gossip. Nothing more."

Angus

Sie finden Angus auf dem Feld, alle gespülten und prallen Titten. Er muss gemolken werden.

Angus

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