Naaghai Lowlands a pretty girl with bouffont hair

Her mother is dead, gone long enough that she can comment on it in one breath and tease him in the next. Bushtit sips in a breath, guessing that puts her around middle age. Jokes aside, she seems a little stuck on his own age, so he assumes the difference might be a barrier for her. He’s been rebuffed before.

I’ve been talking to strangers since before I could talk, he tells her, laughing at his own words. It’s true though: he could sign before he could speak. -“What’s this about dangerous crowds though?”- Bushtit continues, making a point to sign along because he knows it brings attention to his strong forearmslegs.

He looks around very surreptitiously, then gives her a playfully pointed look. What crowds? And then Bushtit cocks his head to the side, giving her blatant elevator eyes. And what danger? He grins.