Fascinated, he is, by the way the fish move; they dart in unison, cutting through the water like silver blades of grass. He ponders for a moment - could he move in such a way? His paws flex against the rocks below in response, tempted to test their limits in the grass beyond the riverbank. For now though, he merely continues to watch, ears cupped forward and blood-orange eyes fixated on their goal. He is single minded in those moments, unaware of the impending company as she moves towards him; he is not a creature of fear, attentive only when he desires it.

Perhaps she might think him daft as he continued to stare into the waters even as she takes her place on the banks. Eventually though, an ear of his twists back in response to her silence, his eyes and face soon following suit to twist back and meet the pale, near-white eyes of the stranger. He notes her face first, passive and fair, and then her pelt of burnt leaves. She is new to him, entirely so, and he sniffs curiously only to find an absence of any true marker. She is very much a loner, he supposes, his head lolling to the side slowly as he begins to turn in the water to completely face her. He glances back at the fish once more, a little longingly, but his attention is finally parted from them. For now, at least.

He is, admiteddly, perplexed by her silence. It is not often that he finds another content to remain without words, so much so that he is inclined to utter the first words himself. His voice is always peculiar, seldom used and always drenched in unspoken questions - "Content to watch?" It is a simple question, his eyes glancing sidewards to motion back towards the underwater prey, yet they are fast to re-settle on hers. They are unwavering in their fixation, head slowly tilting to its opposite axis as he awaits some form of answer. His questions are always simple but always something more. Is she content to watch? The fish? Him? He does not say.