Falls

The big behemoth just stares at her with those pale blue eyes as if she had done something so extraordinary that he couldn't tear his eyes away. It made her skin prickle with anxious nerves, but she was determined not to back down from him, even if he could simply sit on her and squish her. Instead, her petite head lifted higher and she braced her figure, much like a threatened animal might puff up it's feathers to appear larger and more intimidating.

Silence greets her question, and the two of them stare at each other in a stalemate that Grier scarcely understands. The threat she'd sensed from him, in the beginning, had all but dissipated, but he still remained a mystery that she could not solve. Who was this Clyre? Why had he wanted to attack her? And - not that it was any of her business - why did he have such a hard time speaking?

Eventually, he responds to her and she waits patiently for him to sound out the word that he wanted. When he was done, she echoed him with the equine equivalent of a raised brow. "Escap?" As if saying the word out loud was a magic spell for comprehension, her petite ears pricked forward again. "D'ye mean escape, lad?"

And then, a moment later, as if the meaning of the word had only just hit her, her head lifted and tilted as if she were a schoolmarm attempting to suss out the truth from a naughty student. "Was she escapin' from you, or the other way around?" As if suddenly realizing that that probably wouldn't be particularly easy for the boy to answer, given his difficulty speaking so far, she switched it up to a simpler yes or no question.

"Was she runnin' from ye?" Even as she says it, Grier doesn't fully believe so. There was something about the painted boy that suggested he wasn't nearly as mean as he might pretend to be. Against her better judgement, something maternal kicks in and her expression softens. Pausing for a moment, she extends her muzzle a bit forward and asks more gently, "or were ye runnin' from them?"