Sleepy Fox Hollow potage.

While being admittedly a bit cruel with her inspection she sees nothing that indicates trauma, and backs off with his word. She cannot help but observe the rest of him now. There is a ragged quality to him that Stryx is accustomed to seeing in herself - or in other rogues - but it looks as if his worn state is exacerbated by something else. He seems healthy enough, his coat retaining some luster and his eyes bright. It could very well be that Stryx has alienated him; it wouldn't be the first time her overbearing tendencies have pushed people away.

She clips at him sharply, Sorry, habit. As if that's a suitable apology; it certainly isn't sincere. Her eyes cast about as she looks for the ornament that had smacked him, and she spies the acorn laying discarded in the grass, kicking it away and listening to it clatter in to the debris further along. It is too bad the squirrel had been spooked - Stryx was hungry and it could have been a nice little meal.

You owe me lunch. She points out, almost as an afterthought.