A final snort was tossed in Achlys direction as the male finally seemed to remove himself from the area, signified by his voice having grown much dimmer when he tossed that final remark over his shoulder. In hindsight, considering he was literally gorging himself on the duck that man had so generously left behind, perhaps Constantine should’ve been a bit kinder with his farewell… and mannerisms in general… but his sense of social grace was nonexistent, just like his faith in Morpheus’s “Godly” plan, and from his perspective, having been starved near to death for so long and knowing full well he had the skeletal body to show for it, he reasoned it really would’ve been more rude on Achlys side to not surrender his food. Honestly, why wouldn’t you give your food to someone like that? Constantine felt no need to be grateful for something that was just common morality.

Anyway, continuing to pick the waterfowl between his paws apart, he flicked his ears and waited patiently for the remaining wolf to leave, but… Curling a lip as he listened, it became apparent that the other wouldn’t be leaving unless he at least knew the blind man’s name, along with Achlys’s, whom had not been as willing to share his name with Morpheus as he had been with Constantine. It also seemed by the sound of approaching pawsteps, the stronger scent of wolf before him, and the feel of hot breath puffing on his face, that the dream god had brought himself nearer to the emaciated man, daring to place his muzzle inches away from Constantine as he spoke. Being an embittered soul, there were, naturally, a lot of things the blind man didn’t like… but having his personal space invaded when he couldn’t properly dictate the other’s intent was probably at the top of his list.

Gray ears pinned back to his skull and bloodied fangs gnashing in a silent warning, Constantine rumbled low in his throat, making his distaste of the situation clearly known. As for providing his name… He didn’t think he owed that to anyone, hadn’t even given it to the wolf that surrendered his kill to him… however… if it meant the god would back up and finally piss off, he would oblige.

“Constantine,” he gruffly mumbled, then tossed his head in the dark wolf’s direction… or, well, the direction he had been in anyway… “And that one’s Achlys. Satisfied?” He fixed the other with an unamused, milky eyed stare.