Whitefish River Got sexy pigeons, but you're gone

just popping a little Dante cameo in here quickly

The spotted man was nice enough, Dante figured.

He was sure at another time in another context they might have become quick friends upon meeting, the candor of the man's- Hieronymous, he was called (and damn, what a name)- voice and winsome quality of his smile something that generally would have been an indicator to Dante of guaranteed connection waiting to be made. Now, though, his mind had wandered elsewhere, preoccupied with its own stubbornly-repetitive circles of thought. 

The young man had remained quiet beside his lady throughout the conversation, his usual brightness subdued in the wake of recent events. Though he'd come to terms with the fall of the Court, a dull ache still radiated in Dante's chest at the topic of conversation, his only contributions being a small nod here and there, and perhaps a quiet hum of agreement or two. 

The set of his shoulders shifted minutely at the man's words of caution, unease crawling beneath his pelt. Dante wasn't much in the habit of engaging with bears, and not looking to start; he gave a brisk nod in response to the warning before falling back into his thoughts, somewhat mindlessly flanking Lumiya as they walked deeper into the territory.