Whitefish River Afraid of the Empty but Too Safe on the Shore

It's curious, his new acquaintance's name, and his head cocks with interest as Dante nods along to his- Howl's, words, eyes flashing with keen interest. He smiles as the fellow man voices the insight Dante had failed to recognize before he'd soaked himself through to the bone, a chuckle on his breath as he listens. Howl,[q] the young man tests the name on his tongue, [q]S'a pleasure. I'm Dante- and, honestly? I'm sure the elusiveness is really mostly on my part. Not sure I've been the most outgoing lately, he ends with a wry smile that falls a bit flat; coming to terms with the reality of his own wallowing isn't exactly a day-brightener. 

Not a bit, he says as he steps along the shallows of the bank, water only reaching up to his slightly below his elbows as he eyes the other. So, you've had a bit of a journey then? Might I ask where you found yourself? Dante doesn't wish to pry- he's had some unpleasant adventures of his own that surely weren't his favorite of conversation topics- but nonetheless his spirit of inquiry pushes him to ask, the question leaving his lips before he truly registers his own decision to ask.