Blacktail Deer Plateau Wiggle Wiggle

 
She dipped her head in silent agreement, though his poem only suited the perfect dawn, in her mind; the one rife with colour and warmth and beauty. Dawn came quietly, now, with the skies often overcast, dawn presented itself only with a gradual lightening of the black into grey. 

Engel asked after her father; she supposed he may have avoided him for a bit if he'd embarrassed himself so. "he's doing well. are you avoiding him?"  The later question was asked with curiosity and what she hoped might be some amount of tact.