He watches the exchange between them, emerald eyes flicking from one to the other, though he remains silent- for now. Whether he truly even understands the conversation or the delicate interaction and politics of Alpha to Alpha is debatable, for he is only a child and a child in possession of a…..different mind at that. Perhaps it is madness, as some have suggested and yet perhaps those truly keen enough to see the boy at work are only more perceptive to the truth beneath his strange remarks. Odd he may be- but foolish he is not, the boy encasing all the fury of his mother, the perfection of his sire and yet a great and sharpened intelligence concealed somewhere within those waves of eccentricity. He continues to watch, head tilted and turned as Tick Tock and Achilles speak, that dark head and emerald eyes turned to Achilles only as he is spoken to- a wide grin once more encasing the boys features as white teeth flare within the pitch dark of his face. The boy seemingly delighted at his being acknowledged before his grin rapidly turns to a frown at the questions he is asked- as if they are of great consideration.

“Lonhro…..yes….it is like…..Lon and Row…..it is my….sound. I like….the ones that…hop.”

He has done as he has been asked, offering both his name and his favoured food, ears pricked forward expectantly as if he seeks some sort of praise from the white Diveen King before his attention returns not to his own Alpha female and surrogate Mother of sorts. He is content in the presence of the Queen, he knows his place, understands it and yet somewhere within him jealously still turns and rolls. He dislikes her own children, those born to the den that had been his own before he was driven from it. He does not forget. Lonhro never forgets. Yet he offers no indication of this now, merely content to stand within her presence as she too offers him praise of these things he knows, the boy very near seeming to glow once more before seating himself to the side. It is only as Tick Tock moves and Achilles follows that the boy himself stands once more, his long-haired frame trailing along behind the adults now in the same fashion a scavenger lingers behind the hunt. His ears however, remain pricked forward, curious, listening, respectful of their space and yet seeming truly intrigued all the same.

For some time he lingers, watching, listening- until it seems the conversation no longer offers him anything else, the young male moving to slip silently away and back across the fields, gone as quickly as he had come. Such is Lonhro.