Hushed Willows Digging for windows

Buchanan wasn't quite sure what to do. Understandably, she did not greet him with any sort of eagerness, just ...caution. He hadn't expected eagerness, but the way her tail went limp behind her and the lack of verbal greeting only made Buchanan realize with painful exaggeration that he really didn't know what he was doing. Socalizing with other adults was hard enough, but a juvenile that had probably been through all kinds of hell? While it should have been measurably easy for him given he'd suffered his own hell as a child, the truth was he wasn't sure how to approach or talk to children. Children were laughably out of the dark wraith's depth. “It's ok, I'm not gonna hurt you,” Buchanan assured her, making his deep voice as soft as he could to the point where it was almost but not quite a whisper. His posture lowered slightly to show her that he wasn't a threat to her, trying to make her more comfortable (if that was possible).

Whether he was making progress or not, it went unknown the moment the approach of another became clear and a loudmouthed boy came barging in, inserting himself between the two of them. Startled by the boy's lack of personal space (in Buchanan's mind, anyway) the assassin backed up, his hackles bristling in warning for a few seconds. No doubt, this was Tambourine though it was later confirmed for him when the girl — Larkspur, he reminded himself of her name — mentioned it. “I was going to see if Larkspur needed anything, food or assistance with anything,” Buchanan's silvern gaze went between the two youngins before him, his words for Tambourine as much as they were for Larkspur. “I'm sure Larkspur's been through a lot lately and it's really important that we give her support and try to communicate that she's not alone.” Not that ...besides offering his meager little bits of what he thought to be help ...he knew what to do to support her. He only knew that he wanted to try to help her if it was possible, in any way that he might have been able to.