Shamus
"Perhaps I was just tired of getting dealt snake oil, matey" Shamus responded, dismissing the remark about why he had to come all the way to the swamps to seek what he sought. Good moods were getting harder and harder to come by these days, and he wasn't about to let this one be dampened in unpolite conversation. So he chose to tune most of the conversation out, only responding so that the two guards would not have something unresolved let to speculate about.
Little black flies and insects that were even smaller had been bugging his face and fur ever since he had come to the marshes, which led Shamus to idly ask his escort after a few minutes, "So are there any other critters here besides flies and wolves?" Probably was. Probably some poisonous swamp weasel or venomous water bird that had the displeasure of calling this place home. The Saffron wasn't as completely ignorant as he made his question sound, after all, who hadn't heard stories about the great swamp crocodiles that could swallow a wolf that inhabited these rotting water ways? Rather, he was almost as curious just to here the manner of reply he was going to get than just the answer itself.