Totoka River dancing with the waves

She seems to take his words kindly. He sits and watches passively as she catches herself a meal. Is it rude, he wonders, to linger, when no real connection had been established between them? Well - but then she speaks to him finally and his unease settles. "Of course," Étoille murmurs, inclining his head. "It is difficult," he agrees after a moment, thinking of his own background. He hadn't seen the sea before his arrival to Gnarled Oaks, but there'd  been rivers and streams. Fishing isn't a complete novelty. "I've been by rivers, but the sea is still..." the man trails off. 'New' isn't quite right at this point, with how much time he's squandered walking and looking at it. "I'm still intrigued by it," he finally settles on. 

Speaking with others is starting to feel more natural. He glances at the ocean and back to the woman. She's - smaller than him, naturally, and snowy white, and he's not a superstitious man, but if he were he would wonder at the frequency of his encounters with white-furred women. "I am Étoille," the beast introduces himself politely, and lets the flow of conversation fall to her.