Whitefish River she fears I'll be a servant to my history

the stranger doesn't move to inspect the flower as she'd hoped, but she seems to accept her hypothesis about the deer easily enough. her question has a small 'o' appear on her lips, warming of her cheeks. "i'm clementine. you can call me cleo." the word comes hastily, a sheepish smile lingering on her muzzle a moment thereafter. 

what she'd taken to be some odd extension of the girl is revealed, then, to be a separate, living thing. she blinks, her maw once again falling open. the sheer oddness of it (and the brief bit of wanting she tries to ignore) has her usually guarded fron vanish entirely. "what's a homeboy? where'd you get him?" she queries, tail wagging softly as she smiles at the creature, sharply intrigued.