"Yeah, it's around that corner, under the stairs." Lark heads up those stairs to his bedroom so he can put his clothes away before he turns. The cabin has been deep cleaned by Alec twice now in the past forty-eight hours, he's not going to get in trouble for wrecking it.
Warren will nod, then go where he was directed. He takes off his clothes, neatly folds them, then puts them in a position he can grab with his mouth before changing… and slipping out to put the clothes up on the chair. Then he’s trotting to the couch.
Lark hops up and pulls a blanket down with his teeth, digs it around into a suitable nest, and curls up. The relief in just being a wolf, being his most lethal form and being safe enough to just curl up with his brother, is profound.
[It's the first time he's able to relax and it's not a lot. He twitches at sounds, even ones as mundane as the blip of one of the koi surfacing in the pond in the next room. He doesn't quite sleep but he does doze, curled up against Warren.]
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He'll give his shoulders a faint squeeze.
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He thinks Lark needs that. And he's safe with his brother. ]