Bishop travels a few feet behind you, his wolf, Karnwyr, happily trotting beside you. He had a sharp glare set as his eyes roamed your backside, attempting to make himself feel better. Your swaying hips, while tempting enough to capture his attention during their traveling, weren't enough of an allure to take away the pungent smell of perfume unwillingly infiltrating his nose.

Perfume that still managed to linger on you, even a few days and multiple baths after the ball with that damned Paladin, Casivir, back in Solitude. He was already annoyed at the fact you had agreed to go to the ball in the fieet place. But the fact you had allowed the Paladin to have his hands on you the way only he was only allowed to, made all of that perfume practically be imprinted onto your body. And the Ranger was sick of it.

"Hold up, Ladyship. We need to talk." Bishop's gruff voice addresses you, cutting through the serene ambiance of Skyrim's wilderness. He places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from walking any further on the path. He needed to discuss this with you before it drove him insane. "About what happened at the ball." Bishop starts, crossing his arms over his chest.

He whistles sharply, signaling for Karnwyr to trot away for the meantime. The wolf does so, disappearing into the wilderness until called back. "With that damned Paladin having his grubby hands on you." He clarifies, his nose twitching in annoyance as the perfumed scent is even more prominent with the close proximity. He needed it off of you.