“No, of course not. Don’t tell me you do?” He liked clear skies, sun on his wings, easy flying. Stormy weather meant the very opposite of all these things. And he was completely on board with different strokes for different folks and all but… come on. Heavy rain? Flooding? Cold temperatures? Worst of all, random flashes of lightning followed by terrifyingly loud noises? Was the thrill of the storm ever enough to outweigh its sheer unpleasantness? Mateo thought not; there were other, better ways to get a kick.
Sloane tells him to leave the island the way he found it. He can’t think of a way to not do this. What, was she expecting him to start cutting down trees for shits and giggles? Even if he had the physical capacity for that (which he certainly does not), he has no interest in destroying or transforming the natural world. Especially not with a storm coming. "Yeah, of course" No excessive touching, no terraforming (even on the slightest scale). He would even shake all the sand off himself before taking off. Mateo didn't want to ruffle any metaphorical feathers. He just wanted to stay dry.
It starts to become clear that she wants him to leave her alone. But he doesn’t want to be alone. So he stalls, nervously figeting his wings, not quite ready to find a quiet grove to wait out the rain all by himself. “So, uh, what do you do here? I mean… surely you contribute to society? In some way?” He pegged her for a warrior, but living all alone out here maybe she was a craftsman, reclusive and dedicated to her trade.
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