During his travels with Crowley, Talbot had seen many strange things, including a much bigger canine that resembled himself, only he was as white as the snow he walked on, and seemed to care little for him. The pup that was barreling towards him, however, seemed to think the exact opposite.

Streaks of yellow began to glow against dark fur as the distance between the two pups lessened, and Talbot found himself dancing to one side in a fit of excitement, his hackles standing on end. Although he had never seen Aramis before, the youngster could already tell that he liked him, and that he meant no harm. Releasing another pitiful, whining yip, Talbot bounced forward a couple paces before leaping towards Aramis, aiming to land upon his back and bite for the back of his neck. It was nothing more than a playful gesture, but he could feel a flicker of apprehension from the stallion he'd bonded to.

Breathing a sigh, Crowley settled at d'Artagnan's side, unable to help but watch the rambunctious pups before turning his attention to the bay. "That was a long time ago, my friend," he responded with a chuckle, "Sometimes I miss the ignorance of those days." The saying that with age came widsom seemed to rang true to the brindle, although sometimes, he wondered what he might be like had he never lost that youthful innocence that everyone was born with. Dead, more than likely.

Allowing the thoughts of his possible death to slip away, the brindle focused his attention back on the Mender. It was strange to think that this was the first time they had truly settled down and spoken together in peace; every other time, they had been busy warding off creatures of the night, or stuck standing in silence at a meeting. The thought of talking in the back like naughty school children brought a smile to the brindle's lips, but he was quick to wipe it off. He was eager to know more of the Basin's Time Mender, and simply spend some time to unwind from the norm of their duties.

At the question of his young companion, Crowley's eyes shifted to the romping pair and he resisted a chuckle. "His name is Talbot," he answered, and then his gaze shifted to the pup that was not his own, "And what of your fiery friend?"

When his promotion to Weaver was brought up, a thoughtful look crossed the stallion's features, as if considering his answer before speaking. It had come to him as a surprise, that he had been chosen for the position, but he wasn't complaining. The brindle was happy to step up and provide for his herd, his family, whenever they needed him. "I've not had the chance to do much with it yet," he answered honestly, "However, I should be starting on my first project within the week." He paused then, watching as Talbot set to bounding around in small circles before them, before delving towards Aramis once more.

The brindle shook his head. "Perhaps a leash should be next on my list."