Lost Creek Hollow it's the king's turn

That's ok, no need to apologize! c:

It was only at first that Lagon's pace was slowed, leisurely as he attempted to warm to the exercise against the frigid air that hung in the crisp morning. Sluggish, perhaps, because he was still trying to loosen the last traces of slumber from his mind and movements, and though he knew it would look very bad if he acted upon it he wanted little more than to crawl back to his den and curl up in the corner the furthest from the mouth of the den and attempt to shell himself in as much of his own body heat as he could keep to him. Yet, he didn't, if only for the sake that it wouldn't look good and he wasn't in the habit of making bad impressions — or backing out of his word, for that matter.

His steps slowed, habitually, at the sound of approaching footfalls, though he was not sure if the fellow guardian would cease, fall in step, or push past. The dragon wasn't in much of a mindset to mind either of the possible ways it could have went, still trying to get his mind in the game and task at present. There was a soft chuff — femmene sounding — and Lagon's steps, respectfully, fell to a cease. His head had moved in the direction of her wordless greeting though the action was proven unnecessary for she had circled around to fall into his sight. Mahogany gaze touched upon her, taking her in for a silent moment, noting that he recognized her. Perhaps not by name but by face.

There hadn't been much time to exchange pleasantries when they were trying to figure out what had raided their cache, understandably. Despite that, Lagon wished he had someway to address her. For now, he didn't, though he didn't worry about it too much for he was pretty sure she probably didn't know his name either, for that matter. “I'd love some,” Lagon responded to her inqury with his usual chipperness and a smile, his demeanor lifting at the companionship she seemed willing to provide him with — even if it was just a short stretch of his patrol.