Barrow Fields lift me up, you take me higher

His obvious approach afforded him all of her grace; she was by no means shocked as he came toward her, not even behaving as though he were sleuthing about the territory. She could not even think that he might have been stalking her beforehand; it was not that he didn't seem the sort, it was that he approached her without any measure of maleficence that she recognized the fact that if it had been anyone who had been stalking her, it would not have been him. Though she would not define his physical appearance as welcoming—in fact, he appeared, from a distance, prickly and obtrusive, as though he would desire to be alone—his approach foretold that he was not one to shy away from, well, being seen. There was something roguishly handsome about him—Hydra had a preference for those of his complexion—and she patiently awaited his approach. 

His greeting shattered her perception of him. So, too, did his amicable body language. Up until that point, Hydra's gaze upon him had been hard and severe even despite her sudden attraction to him, but it softened considerably when he greeted her with his pleasant (enough) offering of friendliness. Hi, she echoed, her own tail waving. Come here often? She asked with a tilt of her head. It did not seem that he had any anxieties of being watched, despite the fact that she had felt such a way... perhaps no one was here at all after all, except for the two of them.