Blacktail Deer Plateau lyrebird

As a Shah, he heard the hidden connotation of Koontz's invitation, but demurred to comment upon it. "It would be my pleasure to hear of it," the Persian murmured softly, teeth flashing in a delighted grin at the gunmetal woman. While he was attuned to their equality as leaders, Xerxes could not help but indulge his myriad mental fantasies; this one involved Koontz surrounded with summerflowers while her handmaidens trilled arias in her favour. Windy retiree? "Oh! surely you jest, but you have wounded me gravely," Xerxes rejoined, though his eyes glimmered with the knowledge that Koontz had done no such thing. "Old I may be, but not so old that I am retired from various...arts." Be it to her to take his would-be bait; Xerxes moved on from his little suggestion, congratulating himself for his daring. "How many packs are there in the land?" the ruddy man inquired after a heartbeat. "It seems lovely, and very large. Perhaps larger than the Valley of Seahawks." With a polite little bow toward her, he fell silent, awaiting her words, perhaps the invitation for a tour. At the back of his mind, he wondered what it was that Nita was getting up to in his absence, and he allowed himself a small private inner smile at the idea of his headstrong, snowy bride setting out for reconnaissance of her own.