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A loud call alerts him to the presence of others in the area, and, bored, he decides to investigate. It isn't like he has anything else to do, after all, and whoever it is that has ventured to his stretch of beach may provide amusement and distraction. The voice sounded young, far too young to flirt with, but perhaps the foal will have a lone mother he can use his charm on. If nothing else, he will be allowed to forget his past while speaking to the babe. A temporary fix, but one he chases, desperate for even a few moments of forgetting.
Yet, when he finally spots the foal, he pauses. The resemblance to Kanti is uncanny, with her palomino paint coloration and carefree attitude. Eyes turn to scan the beach, and sure enough, his occasional toy is standing there, looking as lovely as ever, and with a companion as well. With a smile, he prances forward, raising each leg high in an attention grabbing display. Such antics are hardly needed, but he feels the need to show off, and perhaps earn a little admiration. Yet, despite his proud actions, his mind is racing. Who sired the foal? She is obviously Kanti's, yet there is no father in sight. Had some Foothills stallion gotten his hooves on the mare, or perhaps another outcast? Or was the foal his? There had been that one time in the Grove...
He forces the thoughts away once he reaches Kanti, careful to avoid stepping on the odd little creature that stands nearby. "Hello, darling," he greets, tossing his forelock so that it falls over one eye, giving him a roguish appearance. "I see that congratulations are in order. What's her name?" He purposefully refrained from asking about the sire, not certain that he really wished to know. Instead, he ran his muzzle along the flicka's(except she wasn't anymore, and when did that happen?) neck, playing the role she had cast him in so long ago(had really only been last Frostfall? It seemed so much longer...), her charming prince/knight.
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