Askan never answered his question, but perhaps that was for the better. It was more a thrown barb, after all, and the loner supposed there was something to be said for having your wound cleaned out. (Even if the pack wolf had been the asshole to cause it in the first place.) Sass would only make him as bad as the other male when he pitched a hissy fit, and honestly, Reyes was bigger than that. He could handle this without a word. It didn’t hurt (much, Askan really wasn’t the gentle sort), but he had no reason to whine when the treatment was over, either, gracefully unfolding his legs and shaking the snow from his undercarriage.
Oblivious to the constant stream of thought currently plaguing the Rye wolf, he glanced over, rolled his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “What now?” he asked, brow raising. What was it to him, anyways? He’d been the one to happen upon Askan, after all. Didn’t the guy have a pack to get back to, anyways?
“Dunno. Gotta find Cotton at some point. Gotta eat. You know, the usual.” Reyes narrowed his eyes slightly, chin tipped up as he peered at the other wolf. “Why?”