Redhawk Caldera No one says no to Gaston

The greeting he received was welcome; a wagging tail, bright features. He felt the young man's eyes rove over his features and, as per usual, he saw some admiration there. He tolerated the appraisal, though his wounds were not something he took any pride in. If only these strangers knew how these scars had been caused, they would not look upon him as some great warrior. He would have to bear that image and the impression it caused for the rest of his days. 

Fortunately, the stranger's chipper, commanding voice abruptly shook him from those thoughts. He spoke in a language that Bronco did not understand, and he sudden greeting caused him to stop, and tilt his head to the side- and then to the other side, as the man spoke. None of the sounds were very familiar, unlike other languages that might've had some similar-sounding words. The man's eyes informed him this was some kind of praise, and made him wonder if he was indeed commenting on Bronco's scars...But that was not something Bronco wanted to talk about. It was probably for the best that he wasn't speaking in English, so he could avoid having that conversation altogether. 

"I don't understand you," He said kindly, with a soft shake of his head. "Do you speak, uhm...Do you understand me, and speak this language?" He asked.