He shrugs.
It's a weird movement, she decides, something she's not entirely familiar or comfortable with. The easy roll of his shoulders is appealing in its own horse-flesh-y way—rippling all the way down through the feathers along his wings—and she watches with a queer wonder that could almost be taken for fascination.

I wonder if he practices.

Was that something most horses did? Did they face off their companions and contorts their faces and flex their necks and round up their bums and smile and prick their ears? Or did they just be, like Volterra did?

Obviously, not having a companion might make the practice more difficult. Unless they practiced with their mums or dads? That could be it...

But the shrug (and the watching of it) is only an excuse for time to collect her thoughts.

Because this time, he makes her hesitate, since there's fabricated flattery and hefty compliments (at least, it seems like a lot of sweet stuff he was saying to her. Admittedly she doesn't get many compliments from her primary acquantainces—trees.)

Irresistible. She does like the sound of that—all rich and worthy. A gentle smile creases the corners of her lips in response, a more genuine grin that shows just the slightest flash of fangs. She wouldn't wish to appear too flattered, after all; she thought that might reduce her mysterious charm.

"I'm not entirely certain I understand what you mean," Nymeria says, eyebrows quirking in a faint stereotypy of admonishment. Once more she pauses, scrambling for the right words and the right irresistibility and a way to make her more fastidious and fussy nature glorious and appealing. It's all so new to her, this idle banter—she had become somewhat unaccustomed to company in her time with Lil. That wasn't to say her dragon was poor company... but he was just, you know, different. His every thought and emotion reverberated through their bond; there was no sense of mystery, or danger.

Pause over and go—"I suppose I am naturally talented at everything, but I had always thought that was simply a side affect of being fabulous." Nymeria's head tips in a manner both curious and avaricious, her ravenous eyes striding over the boy's electric body. Her weight shifts as she props up a hind hoof beneath her, tail flicking over her silver flanks in an appropriately sassy manner. "I'm Nymeria."

Atop her withers, Lilómiel gurgles. The vaguely grotesque sound rumbles out wetly through the air, a thunder to replace the thunder. Anger snaps and licks through their bond; teeth unknit and wings flare and snap, the dragon's feather crest rising up in a spiky array of his fury.

"And this bad-tempered ass is Lilómiel. If he tries to chew out your eyes, it's not my fault."

And she smiles, right on cue.