Haunted Wood come away to the water

Orson fancied herself as someone good at reading body language. It went beyond the more blatant expressions — the smiles and frowns and shifting eyes and hard stances, no, she thought that she was good at reading "microexpressions", giving her the air of a mind reader. So she analyzed every single movement of his body, his face especially, trying to pick apart the subtle twitch of his jaw — apprehension? — before it his lips curved into a smile. 

Cute, she thought after he spoke. He was a ragged being — ruffled fur and wild eyes, with a scoundrel-like air about his smile that was almost convincing. That hesitation beforehand, the unsure gritting of his teeth said a bit otherwise in Orson's eyes, but it was not uncommon. Everything was an act. 

Nae, She settled on her Scottish burr for the moment, unsure whether she should play around with her voice just yet. I just strolled in here a few days ago,. She moved closer to him, shrugging all the while. I suppose yer th' same?