Unsurprisingly, Blackjack had been out and about for a while on his newest bounty and had only recently returned back to camp, the dangling corpse of a rabbit held tightly in his jaws. It would serve as his next meal, given to him as his payment for a job well done — not an assassination this time but rather a basic task to complete that some poor, lazy soul couldn't bother doing themselves. Their request was merely to snoop in on some conversation and report back to them, because why bother dealing with your own personal issues yourself, right? That was what Blackjack Venturo was here for — to deal with the problems you couldn't, although he had to admit that after a year or so of getting his paws really dirty, these little inquiries were more bothersome than helpful. But, in the end, he couldn't complain about free food, could he? Exactly.

The horned jaguar had made his way back to his treehouse in the far corners of the sparse jungle, and his metaphorical brow raised at the presence of a familiar-looking wolf beside the entrance of his home. Yes, the very wolf that had first greeted him (or, at least, attempted to) when he had appeared at the Pitt's borders not that long ago. Was she looking for him. "Bonnie?" he called out with a mouth full of dead rabbit, realizing this fact a little too late and dropping his meal down. It was Bonnie, right? The name sounded correct to him. Upon his back now stood the raven Oscuro, who had flown around him on his journey back to camp and was now eyeing the wolf curiously.

"You need anything?" Blackjack asked her, his jaws empty so that his voice could project clearer to her. Had something gone wrong, or was she part of some welcome party that he had completely missed? In either case, he certainly wasn't expecting company today. Not that he ever was, anyway.

Blackjack was well adjusted to cleaning up his own messes. His amateur years of hunting were much, much sloppier, but in time he had learned better ways to clean up after himself, to disguise his identity amidst a jarring scene of his creation. He wasn't used to the resources at his disposal now that he had joined one of the larger clans on the Island, such as its other members that would assist whenever their hands were necessary. It was a strange feeling that he felt he may never get used to, but only time could tell.

Bonnie stuck out like a sore thumb to him among the other Pittians. There were figures like Jormungand and Olalla that exuded either a rebellious flair about them or sheer, raw power, as in the case of the former and the latter. The vast majority of these members were rough around the edges, sharp and jagged like a knife primed for cutting and killing. Bonnie did not seem like them. She was quiet, obedient. Granted, his only impression of her was that of their first introduction at the desert borders, but so far that was all the information that he had gathered on her. In all honesty, Jackie could prefer her silent presence to the others, the same way he preferred spending his time alone as opposed to hanging out with the rest of the clan. Silence was something to treasure, as was a quiet Pittian who wouldn't bother him when he had no energy for social interactions.

I brought this for Oscuro. A ripe orange was pulled from her pack, rolled over to touch his obsidian paws. Oscuro eyed the fruit curiously, and Blackjack took it upon him to translate. "Es para ti," he said to the raven, encouraging his companion to take a closer look. The raven hopped down from his back, inspecting the fruit carefully before taking hold of it and spreading his broad wings, rising from the ground and upwards into the treehouse through a slightly ajar window. "He appreciates it," he said to Bonnie with a soft chuckle, his rich golden hues falling upon the wolf once more.

But surely she wasn't here just to feed his feathered friend, was she? There had to be something more to this visit. He wasn't sure what her reasoning to come to his home could be. "What is it?" Blackjack prompted her, his voice soft now, almost gentle.