Though enjoying the surprising warmth of the day, Gaspard wasn't one to get carried away, especially considering he'd traveled enough to know that mother nature could be fickle in even the most stable-seeming places. As such, he found himself walking along the riverside, glancing occasionally into its waters, but never treading in. He did dearly love to swim, but he didn't want to find himself with a soaking coat when the weather took an abrupt shift; that was a good way to find one's self chilled to death.
As he glanced up, however, and saw a stallion up to his chest in the water, he found himself stopping short. It was odd to have his thoughts contradicted so suddenly and physically, but he had to wonder. Was this a foreigner, or a native? He had only been in these lands for a short while, and it was true he didn't have the exact peg of the place, he still didn't think it was a particularly good idea to be splashing around at the first sight of warm weather.
Well, it wasn't his body. Perhaps the other knew something he didn't?
Pausing just out of reach of the splashing, he watched the stallion for a few moments, debating with himself on whether he should ask or simply move along.
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