Golden Glade even embers spark from odd flames

Thank you so much! I try to make up titles that'll get me in the writing mood, yeah? Congrats on CWOTW by the way - I just saw that :)

     Between the inferior brevity of time and space that flowed between the golden pleb's auditory reception of the approaching female and that of his emerald gaze tearing away from the weeds below, two thoughts manifested themselves:

     You idiot, you've been caught talking to the sun and weeds and now your mental state has become a mutual cognizance
 
     and 

     I'm so hungry she literally smells like a duck.

     The latter of these two became the more prominent concern. He scanned the female once over before, despite the gnawing urge to resist, he let his gaze rest upon the limp (juicy) waterfowl hanging from her jaws. Instinct once taught him to remain impassive - always unnegotiable in regards to body language. It was best, after all, to let situations make their own mistakes. This time, however, his stomach held dominion. 

     Mouth watering, Embry offered the girl a weary grin.
     "You know what, little lass?" He straightened his stance, liberating the strand now flattened by the weight of his grande paw. There was irony in the following statement, considering that he had only just returned from an encounter quite parallel in happenstance. "I'd say the weeds and I are one and the same." He glanced at the squashed patch with an almost paternal warmth. 

     "I don't know what you want to call the grass over here, but my name's Embry. Glad to have you join our little Sunday brunch."