[Hector is blissfully unaware of the bittersweet sheep-related nostalgia of his caretaker. His head is being rubbed in just the right spot, and his drunken, scattered thoughts mostly align to 'yes, good.'
He gets scooped and held tight, and he snuggles in closer and enjoys the floaty feeling. Feeling in high spirits, and not at all sheepish, he gives the party goers he recognizes a baaaah of greeting as they pass by. He's more social as a sheep than he was as a faun. Those flocking instincts have really been turned up.
He's very pleased with himself to have found such a good chauffeur to carry him around, and when he's able to, he twists his head and gives Reynir a lick wherever he can reach.]
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He gets scooped and held tight, and he snuggles in closer and enjoys the floaty feeling. Feeling in high spirits, and not at all sheepish, he gives the party goers he recognizes a baaaah of greeting as they pass by. He's more social as a sheep than he was as a faun. Those flocking instincts have really been turned up.
He's very pleased with himself to have found such a good chauffeur to carry him around, and when he's able to, he twists his head and gives Reynir a lick wherever he can reach.]