Adolph, helpfully, repeated what Alex had said to Sammy, translating from wolfspeech to the human tongue. Forgetting that she didn't express any issues understanding Pacing-on-Gusts-of-Wind, there was something that hadn't smelled quite right about Sammy, but he wanted to be considerate to his packmates.
Not that he could tell much about that smell right now. Stupid short human noses.
"You haven't told me what I'm looking for."
"Anything that might be of interest to Slitscan. Which is to say, anything that might be of interest to Slitscan's audience. Which is best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It's covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth, Laney, no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections."
--Colin Laney and Kathy Torrance, William Gibson's Idoru