Scarlett's mind was always plagued by regret and what ifs since she was a young child. So much of her life she had spent wondering what if things had gone differently, how different her life might have been for her now. What if her parents had never gone to the movies that night and gotten hit on the way home? What if she had never attempted to try and help what she thought was an injured stray dog and subsequently been turned into a Were? What if she had never left her home town to move to Sacrosanct, and instead stayed home to take care of her mentally deteriorating Grandmother? Or even if she had never taken a complete leap of faith and joined Frost's pack? It was only speculation of course, these dark thoughts that haunted her mind during her most vulnerable hours, and yet despite all this, Scarlett wasn't sure if she could manifest the ability to go back in time and redo everything that she would. It was her cold reality how much she had been forced to endure, how much one person could lose. Yet, she had also gained far more than she could have ever imagined while picturing those what ifs. Life was cruel, but it had shaped the young blonde into the woman she was today: strong and yet with a kindness untouched by tragedy.

The young wolf was hardly expecting another to stumble upon her in such a fashion. Of course she knew there was always a possibility, since this was unbound land that the cities Were's were known to use to be able to shift without concern about drawing attention. Not many enjoyed venturing out on hot, stormy days such as this, so it was surprising to see the Were African dog approach. While company was not something she was opposed to, her immediate instincts about the strange male left a bitter taste in her mouth that she knew water would never be able to wash out. She eyed him warily, and with good reason, the cocky and brazen approach was not something that left her sitting comfortably. Scarlett was always told to push past her first impressions, and, despite the cringe worthy greeting he had decided was suitable, or rather came tumbling out of his mouth with little to no thought, she found it increasingly hard to put her best paw forward and try and be social. Yet her instincts had never steered her wrong, and he quickly lived up to the obnoxious, typical douche bag you'd find drunk at a bar and trying to slip into every girls pants very quickly.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at his flirtatious words, which were far from complimentary and closer on the spectrum to vomit inducing. "Do comments like that ever work?" she asked with a shake of her head, genuinely wondering if any woman was stupid enough to fall for that or if it was only those desperate enough to get laid that chose to play along with such pathetic flirting. This type of flirting never made her feel good about herself or want to pursue any further interaction with the desperate individual, it only put her in a nasty mood. This dog however was lucky Scarlett was so generous and good natured as to even engage with him at all, a mistake on her part really. Chocolate rimmed ears fell flat in annoyance as he insisted she take a closer look at her well intentioned words. Perhaps she should have stayed home after all. "No thanks, you're hardly much to look at," she said, a low growl as she threw a rebuttal back at him. She had no intention of playing into his game, but it seemed she would have to in order to perhaps get him to leave her alone, because being nice just wasn't going to cut it with someone like this.

If she knew how much she was going to be rolling her eyes, she may have thought they were going to roll right out of her head. His use of the pet name sweetness is gag worthy coming from lips such as his. The word lacked any actual caring nature to it, and it was hardly something she wanted to be called by a complete stranger who's intentions were obviously less than pure. This Levi fellow was definitely striking out instead of hitting home runs. "And why should I tell you my name?" she asked, not truly interested in any reasoning he would give her and definitely passed the point of being polite. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him her name, to hear it slip through his slimy grimy lips. Only now did Scarlett realize he reminded her of a mutt, a hapless stray dog with no manners what so ever that needed to be brought to the pound; but this was no lady and the tramp story. Now more than ever she wished to go home, not even the roll of thunder over head and the light sprinkle of rain beginning to release from the the clouds overhead made her desire to stick around.