As she drinks long and deep, he watches her: not out of any particular motivation, and certainly not in a prying or threatening manner. It simply feels natural to let his eyes trace the contours of her body, to note the ragged patches in her countenance that remind him that she is adjusting. Thankfully the moonlight, soft and silver, is kind on her dark fur and gives her an ethereal appearance, the edges of her thin, dehydrated body softened by the twilit glow. He is pleased to see also that she has not lost her sense of humor just yet.

He says nothing at first, only allowing his lips to spasm in a half-involuntary smirk, and he continues to watch her, eyeballing her so the whites show as she nears him and breathes warm air against his cheek. Perhaps he is imaginging it, but the cooler evening air seems to crackle with tension. When she pulls away he angles his head to meet her eyes more directly, and he pricks his ears forward before uttering a soft sigh. "Thanks...?" he finally says, cocking one brow at her, his smiling teeth shining in the moonlight.

"Perhaps you like him enough to take him up on his original offer, then. Or to make it official, at least." His voice is soft and low, but then suddenly he changes the subject. "Sova, will you tell me about yourself? I want to know who you are." His expression, which had become solemn, suddenly cracks a joking grin. "I can't have a secret axe murderer living amongst my herd, after all."