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"shore am," tuna says to him with a friendly toss of her muzzle towards moontide, "ov'r yonder, am trah'vlin' wit' mah group, akashingo," somehow she doesn't butcher the pronunciation like others might expect from a twisted texas tongue. "is'sa strange group, wit' pharaohs and stuff, royalty an'all that jazz," she looks over to trae warmly "but ah've made plen'y frens' there, so it's worth tha troubles."

tuna thought she should be collecting things for the return to akashingo, but instead she was still here, remaining as she looks to her newest counterpart curiously. "you a local here, or nah?" she asks politely