Cerulean Cape Gi[m]me all your crebz

Whilst his attention lingered primarily on the art of cleaning, he remained attentive of her voice. There were a few areas in which he'd nipped at, but his act as a whole had stopped once he'd received his answer. At times, she was difficult to understand, but he was gradually getting better at picking his way though—what he considered to be—her extremely broken English. Thankfully, the directions were easy enough to understand, and he'd made a mental note on how he might find her, should he ever want to see her again. Though, the fact that she was within a pack was concerning, to a certain extent, for he was unfamiliar with the packs of the sea. "What's your pack's name?" was his next question. "What are they like?" His actual question was Will they chase me away if I approach? or How likely am I to die if I look for you? Of course, he wasn't about to voice either of those word-for-word, deciding that what he'd settled with asking was enough for the time being.

As had been expected, the query was reflected back towards him. There was a pause before he'd answered, however, but it hadn't last for very long at all. "No," began the Inuit. "I live away from the sea, in a forest that's east of here." It was vague enough for him. "This is my first time seeing the ocean." It was a day filled with a lot of firsts, it seemed.