Silverlight Terrace [M] Left and Leaving

He nodded, a low hum of approval rested in the depths of his throat. 

"They're useful, birds," Whip spoke then; his voice was rough like weathered stone as he regarded the stranger's companion with veiled interest. "I'm fond of them." Their company was easy -- they did not pry or ask burdensome questions. They simply were. Unbound and free. 

She moved first, approaching with some unknown word on her tongue. Rooting himself to the spot, Whip bore the weight of her scrutiny as her scent intensified with proximity. He sought some form of distraction, so he watched the little feathered creature perched upon her shoulder and ignored the quickening rhythm of his heart.

"I've seen my share," Whip answered, brow furrowing. All questions were pointed, hiding intentions. 

A beat followed.

"Is there something you want?"