Flycatcher Downs a stunning dress of hellfire

towhee observes him closely, but even by trying to decipher body language along with reading his lips, she is not able to detect that he'd meant his words more for himself than her. at any rate, she can't provide any sort of answer without signing in ptero, so she doesn't. her paws are still, her body language not aiming to communicate anything.

that is, until he gestures for her to follow him.

that lingering distrust of strangers creeps up like an unbidden plague and she hesitates for a moment before following after him; letting out a small hiss as ghost's talons dig into her calloused and scarred flesh at his usual perch betwixt the junction of her shoulders.

he peeks his head up over her's, preening his left wing for a moment before, keeping cole in his gaze.

name?

she offers a small shrug of her shoulders, communicating that she didn't mind what he called her: which was true. she couldn't be offended when she couldn't communicate her own name, after all.