Honeyed Pasture king forever, ceasing never

Jarilo was trying to figure this out--himself, her, and every subtle signal, all at once, while at the root of it despite his best efforts to really focus, he was just feeling.. distracted anyway? Maybe that was it, or perhaps not exactly the right word. He didn't think to pin all the reasons on that onto her, but instead it was just something else to decipher. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar company, he had a lot to learn, and a lot of different directions to channel himself if he tried.

As she tested his name, and sorted through it with each honing in over the next, to all of which he nodded heartily. He had never heard it sound the way she said it, but wasn't complaining. And, now he knew she was called Moorhen, too... which, although he didn't connect the entire reference to the marshbirds for which she was named, it pinged as only vaguely familiar, like he had heard it somewhere once. He didn't afford it lengthy consideration, however; he beamed back when she moved a bit closer to him, carefully resisting the temptation of leaning towards it, too overeager. He had to be more mild than he wanted to be, otherwise that could backtrack him entirely.

Hm, guess not. Definitely not by that name, he said, brows knitting into a brief scrunch then, but he didn't hold it for long. The notion of all the momentum not only being his satisfied him and he'd let her sniff at him all she pleased, should she want that. He wagged his tail some more to say so. Though he was getting kind of itchy about wanting to cover ground again, he was less inclined with her to be keen to first (not that he felt that the two topics of interest had to be separate, but approaching the idea was.. well, he didn't know yet).