Stavanger Bay The sea runners

He examined the wolf attentively, making sure to catch their reply amidst the noisy atmosphere. They introduced themself formally, offering a few words about the sea in addition. He construed it to be simple small talk. Tahoe remained leisurely glued to his post atop the pleasantly warm stone. He'd rather keep his advantage of possessing the high ground than leveling with the trifling stranger. It was safer, but significantly more comfortable. His body ached from making the tedious journey to the shoreline, he refused to needlessly waste any more energy. The man—Memphis—had already made his way to him anyway. Tahoe didn't feel obliged to go greet him. A soft sigh escaped his chest. Possibly, Memphis could be useful to him. It would be foolish to dismiss the stranger so early on. A simple chat wouldn't kill him after all. McBride blinked, letting a moment pass before delivering his reply. 

Tahoe. He returned finally, answering with his own name. Yep. The water sure looks mighty fine today. You from 'round here?