The thought of calling a pack leader simply by their name was a bit strange to Dirk but he supposed it was either a ploy or the wolf before him was far more down to earth than some leaders. Perhaps he just hadn't been corrupted by his own power just yet; not that all leaders were. Some just let titles go to their heads was all. It was nice to see that that hadn't happened with this one yet.

"Ye can call me Dirk then.” He supposed that it was time to share his name since Arturio had done the same. No point in keeping his identity secret, certainly not if he intended to root out what manner of wolf the man was. His gut feeling told him that Arturio could be trusted to be reasonable and level-headed, which was a good thing considering how unattached to reality Siren could be at times. ”I quite like the open skies. Reminds me of my homeland.”

Sometimes Dirk missed his homelands but in truth there was nothing left there for him. He might have been able to mend his relationship with the Laird and his mate but just as the thought of returning home pained him as it would remind him of the children he’d never got to see grow, likewise his presence would always remind them of the daughter they’d lost because he hadn’t been quick enough to stop her.

Shaking the less than uplifting thoughts from his mind, Dirk smiled and bowed his head respectfully to the laird before him as he turned to walk toward Asteraia packlands. ”Aye, I think a walk would be nice.” He moved to follow Arturio, walking shoulder to shoulder with the white brute. ”I’m curious, Arturio. Do you greet all strangers to your lands so openly?” How would he react to a wolf who wasn’t quite all there?