Rosewater Oasis The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience.

In the other's steadfast nature, he saw a glimpse of what he prized in a meet-cute. The man was healthy, calm, and approached with a courteous trust that was not ill-placed. Tumbleweed welcomed the stranger's investigation, sniffing the other in return and finding that he came to the same conclusion. This was a sandstrider, much like himself, albeit perhaps not in title. 

The twang of the stranger's voice was unexpected, but appreciated with a lifting of his eyebrows and a light squint. He wondered where the other had come from- all directions seemed to have myriad of different accents and colloquialisms. He nodded. "That I do. I'm Tumbleweed, and this is Rosewater," He said, gesturing toward the oasis, moving aside in such a manner that the other could move forward to drink, if he chose.