Gent had known from the start that his attempt to be breezy and charming was a gamble. It often is. And he’s not stupid - he can usually tell right away which individuals will be susceptible to it, and which will be resistant to it. He had coined this bay mare right off the bat as one of the latter, with her prickly demeanor and sharp eyes. But sometimes… sometimes he just cannot resist having a little fun.

Therefore he’s not phased when his words fall flat on whatever barrier the mare has thrust up, and he pretends not to notice when she rolls her eyes. Neither does he fail to notice when the information that his mother was a Vulcan piques her interest. This he had quietly hoped for, and for a moment he regards the mare quietly, trying to ascertain how best to respond.

But before he can, there is a third - and fourth - horse on the scene. Gent turns his head when his name is called, and his face brightens to see the delicate silver form of Khar’pern. His eyes briefly slide to the filly at her side, but if he notices anything peculiar about her, he gives no indication. “Why, Khar’pern, fancy seeing you here,” he replies, and at her question his wide grin curves into a mischievous smile. “Oh yes, it’s duds-ahoy over there. Especially with you here by comparison.”

The bay mare quickly rains upon their festivities, however. At first, Gent feels himself suppressing a laugh at her frustration, but the word “war” catches his attention and his expression becomes more solemn and thoughtful. He waits patiently for Wasp to finish her interrogation, then flicks his dark, wavy tail dismissively.

“Why, who said anything about jumping ship?” he replies. “As far as Cullen is aware, I’m still a good little Lagoonie. Well, perhaps ‘good’ is the wrong word, but…” He glances to Khar’pern and flashes her another mischievous smile. “In any case… I was just going to offer to keep you in the know of the Big Boss’s plans, no strings attached. But if you already know about the war, perhaps I’m too late.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “As for your earlier questions, my mother was a mare called Inka. She passed away quite a long time ago, so I don’t expect you to know of her. You might know my sister, though - her name is Jetta, and she was prime minister at one point. But as for why I didn’t stay, well, I think you’ve quite nicely shown how welcome stallions are in the Peak. I don’t blame you, personally. I wouldn’t welcome us either.”