Arturo, as per usual, was up before the morning sun had even risen, had caught Chusi her breakfast, left it in the usual place for her before he'd ran his patrols. The morning chill moved through his coarse, longer winter coat, battling against the warmth he put off and seeping into his bones. Winter was rapidly approaching and though it was always a concerning season for packs he was not overly concerned about Teaghlaigh's chances of survival. They were strong and Chusi was, despite the fact that he spoiled her so, at an age where she could contribute to the pack and she did not need to rely solely on them. Arturo was not sure the exact age of his young ward but she was old enough to hunt for herself and work to her apprenticeships which she did with such ambition that it reminded Arturo of his own. Chusi could have so easily been his own daughter, and he treated her as if she were his own flesh and blood. To Arturo there was no distinction. She was not born Fearghal but she was one.

With his patrol wrapped up for the morning he marked one last tree before he wandered further inland, towards the beating heart of the Forest, giving a start of surprise when he came upon Aster's scent and followed it merely out of curiosity than anything. When he came upon the pale moon kissed woman his fiery, red-orange gaze took in her disposition, analyzing her body language carefully. “Is something amiss, Aster?” Arturo inquired, giving a soft cough to announce his presence to her, knowing as he rounded her, keeping distance as to not avoid her personal space.

The sigh that left his pallid companion's lips was heavy, and Arturo was unabashed in his studying. The woman's smile was short as she glimpsed over her shoulder, likely out of instinct. The milky swirl to her gaze the only indication that she was blind, and even then he only knew this because she had told him, because he knew it was there and knew what it meant. She turned to face him shortly after. Though she relaxed upon her haunches the gangster remained standing out of his own personal preference. “Morning blues?” Ceannasach inquired politely, the smoky reticence of his deep voice betraying his confusion at the phrase. He understood the phrase “the blues” as meaning feeling down but he'd never heard of getting “morning blues” before. “Out where?” He pressed, seeking to understand.

With a slight shake of her head she apologized and brushed it off as unimportant. Arturo's jaw clenched for a moment — what was with women and their desire to brush their woes off like they didn't matter? It was ...maddening. Of course, the gangster felt a stab of guilt after he thought it. He reminded himself he did not know her past and it was obvious that someone, at some point in her past, had belittled her to the point where she felt that her feelings and worries didn't matter. Admittedly, talking about feelings was always something he had thought of as “women's business” but he was here and something dampened her mood and he had no intention of leaving until he found the root of the problem.

“If it wasn't important it wouldn't be bothering you,” He protested, inhaling, his black, leathery nostrils flaring as he drew in the scents of the forest and The Family, and more distinctly her perfume being in the proximity of her that he was. “I can't promise I'll always understand but I can promise that I'll always try.” That was all he could do and he hoped that it would be enough. The well being and moral of Teaghlaigh's wolves was important to Arturo and he wanted to establish the trust with them all that they could come to him in confidence and he would do what he could to help them, even if it was just to listen.

“Ah,” Arturo offered when she explained that it was about her blindness. Admittedly, this was above his pay grade. He was no medic and even if he when he'd been (back when he was suffering from sharing his mind with Riptide) he wasn't sure he had anything to help her. As it was, Arturo didn't even know where to start, or even if he should say anything at all. He didn't understand and he didn't want any condolences to come across as insincere, which he feared they would. “Isn't there anything that might help? Isley is a medic, perhaps she could...,” but Arturo cut himself off, remembering that Aster herself had listed medic as one of her trades. Surely, if she hadn't found anything herself there was little Isley could do to aid her.

“I can't imagine what it's like,” The brief time of Riptide's intrusion had made Arturo feel like he was losing his mind, and perhaps he had been, but they were two totally different beasts and he did not bother to bring it up. “My mother would have seen your blindness as a gift, not a curse. She believed in mystics and magics. She would have said you might not see the physical realm but that you had the rare gift of seeing that which we can not see. I remember you saying that you were an oracle to your followers, which is very similar to how my mother would have perceived your blindness.” Arturo gave a slight pause, unsure if he was doing anything but making her feel worse. “I suppose what I'm trying to say is it's what makes you, you; but I know what it's like to want what you know you can never have. It's a cruel temptation.”