Northstar Vale office style jazz band

He speaks casually, amiably, and she sees no reason to be on guard nor be defensive, and yet she is still alert. She is no fool and is not one to blindly trust another based on stance and words alone. But she replies amiably enough, voice now her usual soft tone that they are closer, and she does not fear not being heard. "Yes. The autumn is a favoured season of mine." Any attempt at humour and irony is lost on her, as she watches the other with emerald optics. 

He scans the boughs above, she does follow his gaze immediately but keeps her gaze on him. "Are you of a tribe?" she questions, wondering if this is perhaps a loner, a wanderer, who might have knowledge of many places, or if this is a pack-wolf, firmly rooted in his place, as many were. She shifts her weight, stance one of quiet grace, head raised as she surveys him.