It wasn't often that Arturo left Teaghlaigh's borders, though he knew he would need to make the trek to Donnelaith soon to inform Deirdre of The Family's decided terms of alliance. He had considered sending a messenger, to aid one of his wolves who sought the trade but negotiations and alliances were delicate and personal matters and thus Arturo deigned to handle them himself. In fact, the Ceannasach preferred it despite that he trusted the wolves of The Family impeccably. He could have sent his red herring but Donnelaith and Blackrock Depths were already aware that he was the true ruler of Teaghlaigh and there was no need to use his deception. The melanistic coywolf wasn't overly sure what drew him out of his borders to follow the snaking trail of the Totoka River, aside from the fact that he had never truly followed it to where it yawned into the ocean. It cut through his forest, providing fresh water and fish for his wolves; if fishing was something they enjoyed. Arturo couldn't fish worth a damn and didn't like their taste anyway.

He did not venture too far and left the lands under Furiosa's care, trusting in his red herring to hold the fort while he slipped away for a few hours. It was tempting to make the short jaunt to Donnelaith in the hopes of paying Lotte a visit but he knew the next time he made the journey to their borders it would be on official business and not for the pleasure of seeing his nightingale again. He had to reign in his temptation and so he exerted careful control of it now, fiery red-orange gaze like embers set aflame focused on the mirror-like quality of the river's water ...and further on the fact that he was not alone. He saw the agouti stranger in the distance, upwind from him which excused why he had not yet smelled her. A low chuff of greeting and to announce his presence lest she had not yet noticed him was offered, lingering in the good stretch of distance between them.

The stranger's voice was soft and like honey as it spilled forth from her lips. Arturo's eyes narrowed for a second as her assessed her verbal greeting, as the sun continued it's descent into the horizon, spilling it's golden defiance over the earth, reflected upon the mirror-like waters of the river. His gaze, mirrors of the burning fire ball giving way to the velveteen darkness of night, did not flicker from her, instead studied her. She was not close to Teaghlaigh's borders and in truth he had no true purpose of calling out to her other than to alert her to his presence. He hadn't even really had a purpose when he'd stolen out of his borders to following the snaking river. Perhaps his desire was simple: he did not deign for his home to become his prison and so he broke free, stealing a few hours to himself. Even outside of The Family he bore the weight and title of Ceannasach proudly, accepting it's burden always with shoulders built to endure the weight of leadership. Still, a few stolen hours were nice. Sometimes, they were necessary.

The honeyed tone reminded him of one that Kitku had used upon him, and even in the presence of a lovely lady such as the agouti stranger (for Arturo wasn't blind) all he thought of was Lotte. There was none as lovely to him as his nightingale, for the pedestal he'd placed her upon exceeded the heavens itself. She was a queen among women and he desired to officiate what they were, to make her his and himself hers in all and every sense of the word. As to not come across as distracted Ceannasach tucked thoughts of his nightingale safely away. Weary and vague as he tended to be around strangers his guard remained up. “Evening,” The gangster responded, the smoky timbre of his deep, accented voice carrying so that she might hear his words as he spoke them. “The sunset is lovely, is it not?” He inquired. He hated small talk but his elusive demeanor left very little else for him use in an effort to engage in conversation.