She is quick to bite back and he appreciates that about her, even if it is annoying to have to banter back with her as he tries to do the good thing. He could claim the little flaxen-haired beauty as his own and do with her as he pleased, and instead here he was trying to keep her as a present to his long-absent queen.

"Perhaps," he agrees about his personality, the smile not budging from its cold state. She was vicious with her words, snappy when she was unhappy, and he couldn't particularly blame her. He remained a strange stallion and she - with a newborn - was particularly vulnerable. Still, he didn't appreciate the immediate contrariness and looked forward to getting her settled so that he could resume his lonely watch over the Desert.

"But why would I lie?" He asks, the sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

As she rouses the newborn, his gaze flicks to her for a moment, and his mind drifts abruptly to his only son. He is somewhere, out there, with Nyimara, far beyond his reach. In the early days, this did not bother him particularly much. He was not an overbearing father, nor had children been high on his goals to achieve. Cahyr's existence had been as much a means to an end as it was anything else, although he did love him, in his own way.

"Are you sure?" He asks dryly, cocking a brow toward her. "Perhaps I'd better make sure you know where it is... just in case."

Just in case she thought she'd find a way to flee.

He moves to the side, angling to be on the opposite side of the child to not cause her to be even more grumpy, and sets a path toward the oasis. "Did your mother travel with you, too?" He questions, opting to try and maintain the bored disinterested tone despite his probing.