Arrow Lake dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot

He watched each shift of expression with rapt attention, passive and wide-eyed as he listened to Phocion. There was something about listening to the white wolf speak— he thought perhaps days could pass and he might never know. That he was looking for someone caught his attention; it wasn't an uncommon theme, looking for someone, but that just meant Cortland could relate. In the next instant, he knew he was wrong. The realization struck him quietly, a brief shifting rawness behind his eyes— he had not been looking for any of them.
It was a struggle to pull himself from the urge to slip away again— but Phocion spoke again, and he was pulled quite simply from his thoughts. Head canted slightly, he wondered for a moment if he was going anywhere in particular. No, The Mayfair decided quietly after a beat. I'm looking for something. It was the truth, but perhaps not as grand or pressing as someone. I may not find it.