Stavanger Bay to light a candle is to cast a shadow

Hmm, that was new.
 
Knaven had never had another wolf remark on his way of speaking in such a manner. He did not take offense to it, but he was rather surprised at his companion’s openness. The grin that swept the cream-flushed male’s features was reminiscent of Lionel’s. The druid could not help but to sneer in response to the statement.
 
“Well, I just might be… least mentally,” he retorted swiftly, sweeping his blood-touched gaze toward the other male with climbing interest. He liked the way he presented himself; he liked the way he spoke. It was rare to find someone who could keep up, so to speak. The creamy fellow falls into the standard request for a name, offering his own unique calling. The druid squinted with a crease in his brow and a devilish curling of his lips. Miranda didn’t seem a name you’d find every day. It reminded him of the names his mother referenced – wispy feminine names that sounded as though they belonged to fairies. He wondered if this was what they were like.
 
“I’m Knaven. Pleasure to meet ya,” he then offered with a small nod.