Whitefish River Are we the last living souls?

She nods slightly, silent now. She is not a woman to share of her own volition, though Kavik's decision against prying is undeniably the wiser one; she has no desire to revisit the last few months, much less at the whim of a man she barely knows and hardly likes. The inkstain is content to allow silence to settle between them, lowering herself to the ground with one foreleg crossed over the other and tail wrapped neatly around her body. It's easy to lose herself in thought this way, assuming Kavik doesn't break the silence. She doesn't necessarily ignore him, though, preferring to think of herself as exuding a friendly aura if nothing else. Hopefully he gets the message: his company is welcome, but small talk is not.