Moonspear As if you knew who I am, as if you knew my name

He was close when the call raised, but the wolf he found there was not the sort he intended to see. Several long moments passed where all he could simply do was watch her, take stock of her, and draw a very short list of just why someone in her state would be calling for a dead man at their doorstep.

The overwhelming answer was a grim one—he thought it better that he attend to her than that of Hydra. Better he than any number of others that could have come creeping up along the passages in; he wanted the distraction over the drama, even though this would most certainly be a drama of a different sort.

He made his presence known through a thin ribbon of trees, but his attention was not immediately upon her. Instead he found himself surveying the backdrop behind her, wondering what sort of farce he was stepping up to... when the tickle of sea salt crossed his nose over the damp.

The coast. He hadn't thought about that place in a long time. He didn't have time now to miss it.

"You're a long way from home," he opened up, his attention now on her.