Seamus was not as salacious as a man might be supposed to be when he sees a woman around this time of year. It was not that his libido drove him to speak to her, though he could certainly find value in how she is shaped and formed. She is larger than he is, for one. Taller women always had been attractive to him, the way they seemed so naturally on a pedastal - watching and singing songs about them as they showed their prowess.

The scars, the height, the strength, they were all facets of an amazing woman any wolf would be glad to sing the tales about. What little girl pups could idolize and little boy pups could be jealous of or fantasize about.

The comfort between them, even as random as their meeting had been, is a good enough sign that he takes the initiative to continue pressing the conversation onward. He compliments her name, offers his, and teases his dead parents about the fact his meant something so outrageous. At least turned out to be outrageous - the fact that he was the wisest of the four had not been well known, but it could have made him the leader if he had chosen to pursue such a fandangled thing.

It had been too much effort and he liked the protection more than power that would get him in trouble with the big brute of a red brother when he might easily manipulate behind the scenes what he wanted to do. Neirin saw it sometimes, he thought, but it was rare for his ideas to be contrary to the golden brother anyhow.

“Nice to meet you Seamus, as for high hopes your parents weren't the only ones, I guarantee mine also had a few. And don't we all have a screw loose in one way or another, or at the very least in somebody else's point of view?” He smiles at the sentiment, chuckling in that knowing way that makes outsiders to their conversation quite aware that the joke is between these two wolves, gray and brown. “As for me, I’m just a simple warrior with a passion for battle, typically hanging around within Gorall’s borders..”

He nods, chuckling again, “My brother’s son founded that pack, if you’d believe it. Weylin, the Mad King -- or The Pirate King, if you wanted to be kinder.” He was a knower of many stories, but the titles in death that the greats had achieved were a fancy of his. “And what of your passions, past and present?”

He tilts his head, considering his answer and longing for the same things he was about to name. “I have a great many passions,” he teases as overtly as is proper without seeming a sleaze, “in the past I was called the Shadow-Grin. Stealth and speed were more than passions. I had a mind for all kinds of ways to accomplish things others overlooked or thought impossible… my passion for history and stories had always been there, but as I am now… well, broken as a man, hah. Stories are my life, along with history.”