Stavanger Bay losing feeling's getting old

why were they so awkward? was it just him? was he making things weird with his odd silence and his horrible smile? no? keeping his face carefully arranged, velen's composure broke at the first chance it got. "no, i'm totally gonna remember you said that," he purled, stepping into the den after her. it was neatly appointed, each small pile of things carefully sorted. here were coconuts, here a glittering pile of things that glimmered and drew his eye, a half-built cache.
perhaps it was because he was male, or because he was a heathen who slept outside, but velen found himself impressed by the decoration and ambience of dalia's shelter. he sensed she was put out by what she saw as a 'mess,' however, confirmed by her next nervous words.
settling himself upon his haunches near the denmouth, head lowered somewhat as his height would have made it quite easy for him to bang his skull against the roof, velen watched dalia move about the den. "dude, give yourself some credit. you have some sweet digs." 
his mind returned to what she had said about saucy — did they talk about him, then? the suspicion made him flush beneath his burnished coat, and he glanced outward, to the ever-present, dulled roar of the ocean in the distance. in a moment's time, however, velen looked back to dalia, thumping his tail once as he slid down to his belly with a yawn he could not hide.