If Wessex was listening closely she might have heard his voice above the din of the dogs, calling them to heel from somewhere in the workshop. If Wessex was watching, she might then have seen what appeared to be an awkward colossus stumble out of that same building, less drunk than painfully awkward, all dark skin and wry hair and muscle in the Longheat sun.
Lanoch was what some may call 'a strapping young lad', and others 'a goddamn great skinny giant'. He had always been tall and gangly, and though he filled out nicely when he hit his twenties, the nickname "Lanky Lanoch" was hard to shake. "Just a sec!" Coming down the path toward the gate, the young man's grin fell as he spotted the blonde woman. "Oh. It's you."
Arms crossed over his chest, Lanoch looked down at the Theskyra woman with a hard disapproval, remembering his father's dislike for her. Man, her sister had been agreeable and pretty.
A shame, really, the whole damn thing.
"Wha'd'ya want?"
