pure sweet violent hearts

At his admission that he watched the pretty ones bathe, which was then demoted to sisters and cousins Bhreac couldn't to much but stare a little blankly at him, although she was amused. In lieu of responding and making the whole thing worse, as he bumbled through further explanations in a stumbling accent, she waited for him to finish and then promptly set to shaking out her coat rather thoroughly once he turned his back to her. It was presumably a polite gesture, but really it just made her comfortable shaking the lingering dirt and water from her fur, because she'd no longer hit the poor guy in the face. It was only slightly more considerate.

"Not a fish," Bhreac said, stepping out of the water and around to the side so that she could see his face again, although she kept a respectable, if not slightly cautious, distance. "Not a ghost. Also, not disturbed. I don't own the lake."