Hushed Willows i won't let you fall tonight

Banner blurted that she thought ravens were creepy so suddenly that Ghost gave a start — he did not visibly recoil but his parted jaws closed with a sharp click as he tucked away that piece of information. Banner didn't like ravens — which was useful knowledge considering he was going to aid her in the expansion of her feather collection. A chuckle — a soft sound though it was — left the assassin's lips to show that he hadn't been affronted by her outburst. “No raven feathers, got it.” He drew with a small quirk of his lips — a smile he was trying to hide. “I assume that probably also includes crows?” Truth be told though, Ghost was no Ornithologist, he struggled to tell the difference between the two despite that he knew there were differences between a raven and a crow. It was probably better to stay away from big, inky feathered birds as a general rule of thumb.

As he stared at the crane feather his mind had begun to work, mapping out the trek to the southern territory he saw some of the colorful songbirds in, and how to go about hunting them without entirely mutilating their small and fragile bodies as to preserve the feathers for her. So caught up in the theoretical ways he could carry out the process that he almost didn't hear her. If it not for the fact that he had never heard another living being call him sweet before he may not have picked up on it, but as it was it drew him up short with a sharp, curious glance that turned into a full blown assessment. While the Ghost might have wondered if she actually realized she had spoken those words aloud to him her sharp intake of breath told him that she was, in fact, aware. He drew a blank. Was he supposed to compliment her back? What did she mean by sweet?

Ghost had been called many things in his life but never sweet. Her gaze seemed to be bashful when it rose to touch his. A small smile was offered to her, with the hopes of soothing away any of her embarrassment. Banner's question was, admittedly, a strange one for the Ghost to puzzle out. It hadn't exactly came across to the assassin as a simple question — almost like she didn't want him to (not that he was the best at guessing such things, haha); yet it was her concern and seriousness that caused some sort of emotion to lump in his throat. The Ghost's brow furrowed but of course, he already knew the answer to her inquiry. It had been something he'd been thinking about since Phiipa's disappearance. He held no rank to make him feel obligated to stay, in fact he wasn't even sure he was really part of the pack at all.

“No, there is nothing for me there.” He'd only joined because of Phiipa and since her departure was nothing short of a betrayal in the Ghost's mind he had no reason to return to the Creek.