Duskfire Glacier glakoss

his gaze flicks toward her, searching, dissecting the shift in her expression. whatever humor had laced her tone before was gone, replaced with something more weighted. something careful.
faust did not consider himself a patient man, nor one particularly good at reading people, but he was no fool. he knew when words were about to be given gravity.
his jaw tightens, and he glances away, focusing on the stretch of frozen water before them. his paws shift, curling into the hard-packed earth, anchoring himself.
yes, he says, voice low but firm.
he does not turn to face her, not yet. instead, he waits.
tell me.