Isleña was not so prepared for the nameless man to return her amusement. She was so used to the hulking, stoic brutes and — while they had their uses and their delights — they were never really that fun. Isleña was a young, fiery thing. Men who could keep up and entertain her with good humor were her true inclination. It was also nice to talk with someone with whom she did not already have so much baggage [already? at 58 posts?]. She didn’t even know his name, and Isleña wasn’t sure she wanted to. That usually spelled bad news for the man in question.
Isleña cocked her head to one side, trying to take in what the man was saying — but words were hard, and she was pretty sure she had never heard that one before. “Captivate?” she questioned in her thickly accented tone. “What is… ‘captivate’??” The banshee suspected it was a good thing, considering that he was laughing and smiling and moving his tail, all the things one did when they were saying nice things, but one could never be too sure.
Either way, Isleña did not linger upon it. She shrugged her shoulders, letting a bashful stare fall to ground. “Is good,” she suggested simply. Seagrape gaze, rimmed with thick, dark lashes, swept up to search for his. He was so much taller than her. “More good — better — maybe soon?” So far, this festival had been about everyone else but her. This man, he offered her something different, and she already liked it.
The man raised his brow, realising the woman didn't know the common tongue well.
He'd left his past; otherwise, he wouldn't have time for this and move on. He was different now.
"It means you're attractive and I want to know you more." He smiled, friendly with that hint of flirtation.
He licked his lips -- he couldn't be nervous for sure.
He nodded, at least she was enjoying herself here but it seemed she wanted more. Attention perhaps. He had time for giving this woman attention, of course.
"Indeed. I'm sure those who invited us have something planned." He looked to her like she was the first flower of spring; affection and flirtation in his gaze,
"What were you hoping to do, miss? I'm sure we could find a way to make your wishes reality."
His eyes danced with his meaning. Should she take him up on his offer, unlikely, but he would of course try. Certainly, if it meant she was happier. He just had to remember not to press himself upon her.
He wasn't that man anymore.
To this day, Isleña did not understand why wolves did not amend their way of speaking for her level of fluency. Sure, she understood more than she could speak, but that did not mean fully-fledged sentence suddenly became a part of her understanding. She appreciated that others wanted to talk to her — for she would be so lonely without wolves willing to bridge those gaps — but it only seemed fitting that they should simplify their word choices and slow down their tenor so that she might have a small chance at an actual conversation.
For this reason, Isleña simply smiled at the flirtatious man as he spouted off so many words and tried not to squander her good mood. Men were stupid, and often needed a little guidance in order to give her all the things she wanted, and certainly this man was no different. “Am sorry — talk more slow, for please?” From experience, the bedouin knew that if she asked for something, she usually got it, so Isleña turned to what she assumed he was asking about: the festivities which went on all around them. “Want friend, make party,” she explained inanely, hoping it made some sort of sense as a response to what he said. He was certainly cute, and she did not was to turn him off simply because she couldn’t understand. Somehow, she felt that responsibility fell to her; a shift from how she had felt moments prior.
“Talk and more talk,” she suggested, letting him know that this was a good thing, despite how she struggled. Hopefully the man, as nameless to her as he might ever be, didn’t mind.