Shadewood i wear my soul on my sleeve at night

The longer he was able to observe her, the less he was sorry about having come upon her in such an unexpected manner. Her demeanor annoyed him — anything that reminded him of himself usually did.  For her size, she had the confidence of a warrior; from this he assessed she was likely swift of foot and fang.  Cocky and sure, she ignored his apology (and at least for that he was grateful), instead pointing a question his way.  His expression was stoic and unchanging as he responded simply, No.  

As she surveyed him, his haunting galleon gaze was focused on her general form.  His massive toes crunched the snow beneath him as the gargoyle simply let her linger upon him; he had already done his sizing-up and was uninterested in a fight.  Moments passed, and finally he questioned flatly, Were they supposed to be here by now?  With the snow, her company might be having some issues finding the location.