Cerulean Cape In an upside down world, floating in a pineapple

"Seems like it anyways," Kai snorts, turning gleaming eyes at him. "Sorta rugged sounding, a name for a "don't mess with me" sorta guy. And you definitely look like a "don't mess with me" sorta guy," the wolfdog eyes him over once again, lingering on the scars that he seems to think detract from his looks - they don't, she decides - before glancing away impishly.

It's clear she doesn't mean harm but the dryad's young and silly - she's full of life where the salty man only two years her senior is stoic and still. "I doubt I'd get a story out of you even if I asked with a pretty please," she teases, finding her pale feet. "You don't seem like the type to share stories but I've been wrong about everything else."

She wanders some steps towards the surf, calling a sharp noise over her shoulder for Tula. "I haven't got an ounce of Seer's blood in me Kjalarr, but it's a fun game while it lasts." Kai was never very good at guessing the facts about people, despite her continued efforts.