Honeyed Pasture Primrose

What the hell?

The lazy gardener halted immediately, wide eyed and now shifting his gaze this way and that. The voice was friendly, but it was the stranger adjusted in the long grass that alerted Marcus to her presence. A golden women lounging amongst golden threads. Coupled with his good mood, the man apparently had no spatial awareness. 

There was some grass still between them, but he could make out her thin figure. So, like a jungle man with a machete, the russet brute parted his way through the tangled blades, poking his broad head into her clearing. Laying his mouthful of organic goods that were never asked for, his whiskers twitched to rid of any lingering fuzz and debris. "You blend right in, caught me by surprise." His sunny disposition shown bright through sunshine eyes.