Firefly Glen The Masquerade

He was perfectly at ease being watched intently as he spoke, though he found himself becoming endeared to her for showing him her full attention as he was reminded of the way he'd be regarded by his aunt during one of their conversations. He'd expected an answer to his question, but merely received the hint that she'd interpreted what he was saying- but she didn't exactly offer to explain any other skills she might have had. And with the imbalance in verbal communication beginning to dawn on him, her silence began to speak louder. 

"I'm sorry," He apologized, somewhat sheepishly. Oddly, though she hadn't spoken, his first assumption wasn't that she might be non-verbal- it was that she might be deaf. -"Can you hear me?"- He asked slowly, incorporating Ptero into his language. Even while he was aware that it was a form of communication that was fairly unique to his family, the gestures were often quite self-explanatory. Even a wolf with little to no command of the Redhawk Ptero might be able to follow along in a simple conversation if words weren't used. His gesture had involved a flick of his paw in her direction, and then a gesture to one of his own ears, which he tilted toward her- easy physical communication to ask if she could, in fact, hear the words he was saying. He'd met very few wolves who spoke an entirely different language- and had more experience communicating with the deaf, so he simply fell back on what he knew best.