Theriar blinked slowly as she peeked into his hiding hole. He had been quite thoroughly found out. From the way she had pased deliberately before the spot she had known the whole time that he was there.
Still it took someone special to outsmart him. His eyes met hers and he asked,
"Well you have found me, what is it exactly that you want?"
He noticed the pink crystals and admired them. She was young but very pretty, she would make some oban very happy one day and from the vibrant spark of intelligence in her eyes, that man would never be bored.
He was a hermit, not dead.
Theriar still pined for his own lost love. He looked after her pearl garden, despite it being a lot of work. He also wove pearls onto the outside of his cast nets in rememberance.
"Also it is not wise to follow strange men into dark alleys."
He noticed she was chilled from her posture. What was a relief to him, ( even though he was used to Matori heat, Matori at least had wind,) was cold for her.
He considered then pulled out a shawl for her to use.