His eyes are indeed quite cold. Maybe not even chips of ice, maybe not even the sea, but they are undeniably cold. They burn with a ferocity of uncaring, the sort of passion that only the truly apathetic, the truly brokenhearted, can imagine.

Knox can't help notice the shifts of her tone, her body, her manners. Is she nervous, upset by the fact that he's no time for her to speak? He'll cut her off as much as he likes; he doesn't care who she is, and looking like she does he's inclined to think she's more likely just gotten by on her looks her whole life.

Not surprising, then, that she sees so preoccupied with his. It isn't as if Knox hasn't seen that look before, that sort of vapid curiosity a mare gets overtaken with when she tries to imagine him ravishing them and breaking their heart in some way or another.

And maybe he's projecting, maybe it's a hint of vanity creeping in, but he's still right in the end in thinking that none of them really understand who he is. So let them think him mad or a rough gentleman, a bad-boy or a papa, he'll keep living as he has for so long and tell them nothing more.

When she admits that it is him that she is looking for, the hunter doesn't even wait for her to finish before throwing up his head with a raucous serious of coughing neighs--something like haunted laughter.

"You're looking for that coot? Ha! I'll tell you this, if you're so readily giving me your name, Nymeria, then chances are he won't give you the time of day," Knox says with a wicked grin.

{Huric:} Are you having fun, Knox?

The hunter's tail lashes behind him. He does not hear his ancestors now. It hasn't occurred to him that this is perhaps the first time he has really laughed or smiled since Manhattan died. "Even I haven't met this herd's sleuth; he seems to only keep the company of the few he considers above him," the hunter adds with a shrug and a lowering of his head. He looks into Nymeria's eyes--deeply.

{Janos:} What an idiot.

"But he does have his network," the dark one goes on as he crafts his lies, "I've met the stag Zekiah before, he frequently keeps company with the sleuth. I can pass along the message that you'll be waiting for him here in, oh, say two season's time?"

{Anaan:} He's all alone.

"I'd come back with some more useful information than your name," Knox says as he turns to leave, for this mare truly is not worth his time, or even that of the identity he's taken on. "I hear he's not easily impressed," he calls back with a snort, just before disappearing into the shadows.

{Anaan:} Don't you two, my boys, pity him at all?

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