Herbalists' Cache every hour has its sound

Soltero's gaze smouldered as he released a long breath, vapors rising like steam from a latent volcano.  He laughed, and his breath erupted into the air while his features lit up with mirth. Rue was unable to keep her own grin at bay, her tail whisking merrily as they chaffed at themselves. Despite being a man of few words, Soltero seemed to be enjoying his company. Rue was certainly enjoying hers. 

He repeated her name, and it seemed particularly cogent when spoken in his low, rumbling tones. "Rue is fine too," the girl allowed, words slipping out as she spoke without thinking. She refered to herself by the shortened version of her name in her own mind, but she only very rarely gave it out to others. With more thought though, Rue decided that she wouldn't mind hearing the nickname spoken in Soltero's sonorous tenor. 

Soltero offered to continue helping her, and gratitude warmed her expression further. "I hope it will be enough," she answered honestly, brow furrowing with worry. She was no longer so concerned that the man might detect the Plateau's weakness-- Rue thought herself a decent judge of character, and Soltero seemed to truly mean well. "I'd be grateful for help with the catnip too," Rue admitted, "..But I don't want to cut into your time meant for Swiftcurrent Creek." Soltero had mentioned that he was out on pack business as well.