The first thing that Ghost noticed was that the lagoon he'd came across in their “stroll” was remarkably blue. The verdant basin was large and there was plenty of green grass and trees. The nearer the pair drew to it the more of the lagoon the wraith could see. There were many scents of large and small game here, almost enough to overwhelm his senses. This was common romping ground for them and this did not strike the assassin as much of a surprise. The lagoon was a temptation. Though he did not imagine it was always so — for hungry predators did tend to come prowling — it had an air of a peaceful place for walks of life to meet, eat and drink their fill. He kept this place in his mind as notable, if for the fact that it appeared to, if nothing else, draw prey.

Curiously, though in his typical quietude he drew up to it's bank and peered into the clear water, brow furrowing just so as his reflection — rippled and distorted as it was — stared back at him. Mercurial eyes set in stark contrast against the dark mahogany of his fur. There was nothing particularly heinous about his face. The Officer had been sure to let his face unmarked. There remained hints of boyishness in his face aged with experience and maturity. He broke the momentary spell he'd put himself in as he tried to assess the face that stared back at him in the water's semi-reflective surface by bending his muzzle towards it and lapping at the fresh, crisp and pleasantly cool water. Fish that had been lazily swimming in it's depths parted and scurried away as he lapped at the water until his thirst was sated. He drew back a few steps from the bank, his head rising as his salmon pink tongue flicked at his black, leathery nostrils before it swiped across his jowls to collect the droplets that had spilled down his chin.

The assassin was not alone for long. The sound of footfalls coming from behind him triggered every hostile instinct the Ghost had: archaic, natural and those forged and created by The Officer. Hyper-vigilant, as always, Ghost's mahogany hackles bristled, his body turned, his muscles pulling taunt as his mercurial, silver gaze analyzed the other male moments after the soft chuff slipped from betwixt the other male's lips. The light grey agouti colored male's posture was neutral. Yet, the assassin did not relax his posture. Not yet. The male had approached from behind whether he had meant to aggravate the Ghost's hyper-vigilance or not. Ghost was violent but not out-rightly so. He gave a single chance and thus far, his companion was on the path of avoiding it.

The muscles beneath Ghost's (incorrectly) tally marked shoulder twitched with anticipation and slowly the assassin relaxed his posture slightly: but the warning remained. Come no closer. He had no qualms about giving into his fight instincts, neither did he care much for the lives that he took. In this way, The Officer had almost desensitized him from feeling pity, and without a master Ghost was little more than a loose cannon: his reaction was unpredictable. He had been reduced back to the basic and oldest of instincts: survival. Survival at all and any cost. His survival did not currently feel threatened but he wasn't the greatest in social interactions.

“Hello.” Ghost responded to the other's greeting, analyzing the odd smile that the other male was giving him but unable to process it or it's (potential?) meaning. Such things — naive as the lethal Ghost was about how the world worked outside of missions, targets and The Officer — went over the assassin's head and thus he did not strive to return the gesture of the other male's lips nor offer anything more than discernible indifference towards it.

Docked tail rose, though the Ghost did not give thought to whether it's effect would be lost or not (it occurred to the ghost absently that was perhaps the very reason it had been docked in the first place). Frankly, he didn't care. If the stranger kept his distance and stayed neutral, then there would be no issues, and if he did not then, so be it. Either way made little matter to the assassin. An inquiry left the other male's lips, one that the Ghost might have associated with true concern except the stranger's face was devoid of it. There seemed to be a distinct lack of care — which did not truly surprise the Ghost: for how could a stranger care about another stranger? It was easy for him to scoff at  the notion because it connected to be illogical in the wraith's mind. He didn't know that he was wrong, but he was what he was: a product of The Officer's forging, his teachings. So, then, it begged the question why the male had bothered asking it at all. For the few seconds that had passed between them, the Ghost considered not responding at all. “Yes,” The assassin rasped out in his deep voice eventually, his tone terse and indifferent. As far as the Ghost could see, his semi-hostile reaction to the other male was perfectly natural and nothing to cause the inquiry about his well being.

As Nico wondered why he bothered striking the conversation, so did the Ghost. Of course, the other male did not know the Ghost, did not realize that he wasn't really the “talking” or “spill everything” type. The Ghost's business was his own, first and foremost, and beyond that as an assassin, as The Officer's intelligence collector there needed to be the ability to operate in secrecy — not to mention keep them. Admittedly, he had been more open with Phiipa than anyone but that had been a mistaken and one that the Ghost was determined to learn from (never mind that he would later place his trust in Banner). “Yes.” The Ghost spoke simply. It was a lie as he spoke it, but the Ghost was a good liar. The Officer had been cleverly deceptive and for whatever it was worth he had taught his skills to his young peon. After all, the Ghost had to be able to weave a believable tale in order to get close to The Officer's targets. There was something that the Ghost did not inherently trust about this stranger though the assassin could not place it. Perhaps it was a wrong suspicion but either way the Ghost wasn't about to ignore it.

Though the other male had no reason to consider that the Ghost was lying about where he was from and couldn't possibly know that The Ghost wasn't from the Teekon Wilds (even though he wasn't) the wraith got the impression that the other didn't believe him regardless. The stranger did not state such aloud and even if he would have it wasn't of any coincidence to the Ghost. With a crooked sort of smile, the other male turned and the Ghost watched him leave with indifference upon his face. The Ghost waited to ensure that the other male was out of his sight, gave an annoyed twitch of his docked tail, and then he turned back to the river for another drink.