Locke
It was a rare occurrence Locke found someone younger than he. Rare and utterly delightful. It only added to his delight as he saw the eagerness gleaming in her, brought forth, little doubt, by her seemingly successful ambush. It was contagious in the most wonderfully intoxicating sensation to feel the same emotions bubble forth in his blood and roll through his head (washing away the last of the grim his more serious conversations had left there).
“Ah! Such ignorance, proud sentry!” He chides her while still cajoling her with the title and ever present smile. The young thief pauses, letting in a beat, before whipping back at her. “Everyone deserves to be distrusted, not just those with feathers.” And a meaningful up-down assessment is given to her and the dutiful half asleep watch wolf.
Yet he does not interrupt her hold up and threats anymore. How rude it would be to talk over your robber, as if they did not matter. Besides his delight at seeing one so young toss about the knives of violence and threat so joyously was a siren song to the ghost of his own foalhood. Having not long left it, and having cherished it more than any other time in his short life, it hadn’t needed much convincing to come out to play. So Locke listens, letting his frown rise again, though he struggled just as much as she to make it hold (having to reassert it the same moments she had).
With her threat delivered, all she was missing was a knife to spin. His head rises up from her level, holding taunt in feigned arrogance, but betrayed ever still by that half lipped smirk and relaxed stance. “Ah well, as you breathe and speak, I see you as distrustful and wishing only to steal the magical words.”Would likely help if there had ever been any to begin with. “And as it seems your blood thirsty hound is full and so he will not be having me for a snack...” Proud head comes down, casting a wary look to the wolf as he traded her a secret. “Besides, between us, I’m rather boney.” Her wink was returned with a smooth practiced mannerism. (Just don’t tell anyone he practiced that move three days by the creek when he was two years old) Then just as quickly he gains back his high headed smirk. “And last, but most regretfully my dear ambusher, you will find me rather penniless.” Like a mirror, echoing her own moves, he adds a shrug of exhausted indifference.
What a delightful game (the possibility it could become more serious simply was not able to find purchase in the youth’s thoughts). “So as you are the clever one here, what do you propose we do?”
OOC:: @
