A gentle half-grin settled across his features at her reply. "I guess that depends which direction you want to go." He liked the way she turned it back to him; she gave no more than he offered, and yet, Toro did not feel his ego assaulted, nor his competence questioned. Her words were soft and gentle and he wanted to stroke them as one might a newborn animal or a puffed dandelion. It would tickle; he was certain. "What'd you come here for, if you didn't know the way?" His competence, questioned. He wanted to backtrack, ask her where she was going, did she know about these woods because he, he knew something- he paused. Mentally, a step back. A short laugh, not the nervous kind but the how cute are you? kind, a would-be gentleman in front of a pretty girl. The grin was complete, now, but it had gone from half of something genuine to a whole of something fake. He said, his tone slightly exasperated - with himself, only, he was quite silly, wasn't he? - "Well, I was taking a walk," his eyes danced up to the withering auburn canopy, "and before I knew it I was here! Funny how that happens, isn't it?" He didn't add the part about I've been walking in circles for hours or, I wish I knew what I was doing, or, what was felt most deeply, most buried, lying to you makes me feel like I'm dying, just a little. It was melodramatic and he kept it to himself. Pretty girls didn't make you feel like dying. El Toro wouldn't court the truth.
His tails swished idly, comfortably. He knew a game for her to play. "As for the direction...I haven't a clue, really. I've never been one for directions." He dared, without pause, "Do you think you could show me a way out?" Propositions were commonplace for him; he figured he could get what he wanted without trying too hard. And there were a few things he wanted.
@myfanwy
