Whatever demeanor Celestine had originally equated with shyness (whether genuinely or simply the object of her teasing, and not truly a reflection of how she perceived the grey stallion) melts away with a rumbling chuckle. He responds to her with similar humor, though a bit more dry — lacking both the sugar and the spice that Celestine often laid on thick, no matter the situation.

He gives his name, and prompts her for hers with a deliberate pause. “Celestine,” she says, though she leaves him hanging for a fraction of a second, just because. Paradise is a massive change of scenery for Celestine, and though she is loathe to appear shocked by it to this bold stranger, inside she is beginning to writhe with anxiety. She is heavily pregnant, in another man’s territory, and will surely be stuck here at least until she gives birth. Not to mention the nerves of being a first-time mother.

She is not the only one thinking about this particular issue. Celestine makes note of Temblor’s gaze as it flicks to the swell of her belly, and her ears tick back with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “There is a possibility,” she says, leaving the end of the statement hanging. She pauses, eyeing the grey stallion, apprehension clouding the curiosity and admiration that had been present before. “It will be a while before he is able to come,” she finishes. She does not want to reveal Rehoboam’s… predicament, just yet.

Pushing away thoughts of the tobiano stallion, Celestine gives her tail a single flick. “I trust we will cross that bridge when we get there,” she says, pulling back on the protective cloak of honey she had let slip with Temblor’s straightforward question. He hadn’t even asked about the baby, but apparently just the reminder of her foiled plans is enough to rattle the spotted mare. She dons a mischievously sweet smile, falling back with an effort into comfortable flirtation.