Sleeping Dragon Crackjaw

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the stranger recline. This was a good sign to Phoenix, who relaxed visibly, and his posture became more receptive as he angled towards him conversationally. "No, actually," he admitted with a rather sheepish grin. He thought it odd to claim he knew something about a place in which he'd never lived. "I've just heard stories. These days I'm going around trying to put faces to those stories, as lame as that sounds." He knew his father wouldn't approve— and he tried his hardest in that moment to forget that his father's approval mattered.

His company was a great help at that. "That's a sound theory," Phoenix laughed. "I'd say let's go check out their skulls if it didn't stink here so bad." He glanced up at the smoking mountain wistfully, but decided that he'd had enough of it for now. This was a place more suited to distant viewings than up close. "Want to get outta here and find some stink-free water?" he asked, glossing over the fact he hadn't even introduced himself yet.