And the monkey paw curled, for Loach would be the other man's company.

He too was not wholly unfamiliar with the product of fermentation in certain edible things. The coast hadn't had much to ferment well, but he had been gift a thing or two in his travels. Pretty faces with pretty things. That kind of company he enjoyed most. Fleeting pleasure in his lackluster life.

Yet now it seemed his days were laid waste to responsibility. Not that he hated it by any means, it just meant he often times walked a different path.

With Lana back at camp, though? And Llinnea seemed to get a bit wiser every day...well, he felt afforded the chance to branch out again. To follow the scent of sour apples on the breeze. Granted he was not the only one and he had to wonder if this man had been the one to cultivate them.

I'll make a trade with ya, if you're wantin'. His voice a warm rumble in his throat.

He blinked once.

Was he being...propositioned? Something about the thought short circuited his brain. Now, he was not about to go and turn down good, warm company. He just did not know if he should be indulging like that. What if the man came back to camp expecting...more?

Granted, was that really also such a terrible thought? Maybe only for all the questions it might raise.

He shifted his weight, as if he was really as old as his greys often dared to convince others he was. Alrighty, but fair warning...you get one too many apples in me and I might be singing all night. Good natured tone, even if he felt immediately embarrassed by his own words.

The other man was good company. Loach became easily endeared by other men in these ways. When they shared warm and loud moments that it felt could only be mustered between the masculine.

He ignored the warm flush of his cheeks. He hadn't even devoured the stash yet!

Oh, I'll teach you a shanty or two if you get me goin'. He huffed with warm amusement. Happily he took his serving and settled down across from the other man. Charmed in full. Especially when being asked what to toast to.

Well, I'll be honest, I got a lots more to toast than I thought I would. 'Specially in the winter. His voice vibrated with humor and delight. Let's be toastin' to the health of my little crew, hm? But what do you be toastin' to, Mister...? Loach allowed his tongue to flick out over a soft apple.

Clouse.

It felt formal. Warm when mumbled softly under his breath. What was a man like Clouse doing out here? Alone with his fancy name and bundle of spicy apples? Maybe Loach had become charmed too quickly, and the apples could not even be blamed yet.

That's a good thing to be toastin' to. He swung his muzzle upwards in a cheering motion. Then he too pierced the soft flesh of the fruit. A slow ooze of the booze right into his mouth. It was a good taste, in his mind. Even if the bitterness jarred him from how much he had tasted the fatty, salty flesh of fish lately.

Just three o' us. He hummed, licking his lips and accidentally wetting them with the boozy fruit. Me, a woman and a girl. And before you go gettin' any ideas, it ain't a family, Mister Clouse. He chuckled out these words with a glint in his gaze.

Loach allowed his legs to splay out behind him in a frog-like manner. Relaxed, at ease. Between the company and the apples, he felt that he was in for a good night.

Maybe he should have considered the walk back to the split, but... He could revisit that at a later time.

What ideas do you want to have? I'm a seafaring scraggly man named after a fish. Loach. Anything good come from those types? His voice was brimming over with humor as he bit into the apple this time. Allowing more of the fermented mash to be juiced between his teeth.