The painted stallion eyed him warily. Letavice just returned his hardened gaze with one that was almost sickenly sweet. But as the pretty spotted mare moved in on him, he almost all but forgot about him. "Lace." He repeated out loud, committing it to memory. "That's a pretty name." He said with a wiry smirk. Letavice could feel his heart thumping away in his chest with adrenaline. He felt oddly light-headed around this pretty mare. He bat his white tail over his haunches as he pranced a bit in place with no where else to dispel his nervous energy.
When the painted stud says his name, Letavice nods in understanding. He knew the Badlands were part of Salem, and that the terrain was the exact opposite of Tinuvel. "Nice to meet you, Yngvar." He said with a smile. "What's the Badlands like?" He asked curiously. Letavice understood that his sire had enemies. Warsaw had just recently fought in a war, after all. But the intricacies of those relationships were lost on the young stallion. He knew Rougaru and he knew Cullen, because they were frequent faces in the Inlet. But he didn't know Persephone or Shamawari or what they meant to Warsaw. Nor would he know who Roheryn was.
Letavice sheepishly looks back at Lace when she asks about the Inlet, and his scoffs a laugh. "It's a place, silly." He said playfully, watching her. "It's where I live." He snorted then, his brows furrowing. "I don't know why we do that, by the way. Why we're supposed to tell people where we live all the time. Isn't that sort of strange?"
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