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A chuckle. So the stranger in the dark was an earthly being with emotions after all.
Though her expression remained as still as a pool in a glade, Sylvi felt a little flicker of satisfaction that she could elicit such a response from the stallion, as though they had been playing some strange game of chicken and he had given in first. There was a kind of power to be had in breaking another's charade.
But as quickly as he had given in, he shrugged his facade back on. His voice was a spider's web: delicate, but an obvious trap. Sylvi might have been young, but she was no fool. Had he caught her just a few months ago, before all the life and joy within her had been razed away, she might have plucked that silk string and tried to lure the beast out just for the fun of it. But she could no more play the part of the sweet, helpless prey now than she could have levitated into the sky. So when he pressed her again for her name, she simply tilted her head slightly and blinked, letting a moment of awkward silence pass between them while the monstrous black-glass ocean hissed and roared in the background. Let him squirm.
His next question finally hit the mark, quivering like an arrow freshly slammed into the heart of its target. Though she could not have said what about it roused her ego from its slumber, Sylvi finally felt something: a gentle twist in her gut, a flare in her chest, a hot flush to her cheeks. Her breast rose and fell ever so slightly quicker as she regarded him, blinking away the stubborn, cold mist from her eyes.
"I can tell you it was not awaiting strange men with terrible pick-up-lines," she retorted, a trace of fire in her tone. "Is this a frequent haunt of yours, Tattoo, or did you decide to mix things up tonight?"