Larksong Grotto and walkin's what they'll do

He listened to her speak, clearly intrigued by her words. Good ears. Noted.

It didn’t take more than a moment for him to join her where she sat, curling his tail nearly above his paws. "Well, Bella." The name rolled off his tongue. His expression showed amusement. A funny thing, this woman was. "They call me Oren. Unfortunate as it is, I have no fun nicknames." His words hid behind a hushed accent. It was definitely there. Just toned down a bit. He returned her grin.

"Though, most people call me by my last name. Unless they’re rather fond of me." His eyes landed onto hers as he added on the last part. Eye contact had always been his strong suit. A sign of composure, his sire had always told him.

Others might’ve took it as a challenge, but lucky for him — she didn’t bite.