To his unbridled delight, the stranger responded by turning the dim shape of a skull towards him. That was a good start, and for the time being Banjo screwed a tight lid down on the overwhelming desire to barrel ahead and make friends. There were only a few who he had thus far had the pleasure of meeting in this strange new world, but those who had thankfully filled his insatiable need for socialisation had appeared to be all froth and no beer. They had greeted him with unmistakable reserve, perhaps shyness - who knew! In contrast, he was not backwards in coming forward, as were they all out back of beyond. Still, the folk around the joint here were receptive and friendly enough.

They were all he had after all.

As the gulls’s grating cacophony dulled finally beneath the present, constant thrash of waves falling ashore, the other began their approach, striding through water with what appeared to be effortlessness - certainly a thing that a creative blend of creatures like he, could seldom achieve. Pale lips drew back against pearly teeth into a hearty (if not somewhat cheesy) grin, and he too slipped slowly forward through the soggy sand to meet them halfway - her it soon became apparent. The half light fingered the restless tendrils of her soft, silvery mane as the constant stream of coastal wind swept by, a rippling frame around a delicate moon-white face; she was lovely indeed, classic and well without the array of fancy adornments he had come to expect of this place, but she hardly looked plain.

Banjo paused the same moment as she, smiling still, though the shadows beneath his weathered cork-hat grew deeper across his slim features, perhaps distorting the expression intended. He wore upon his shoulder no chip however, and let no form of rigidness remain throughout his peculiar posture as they met face to face (distance enough for two strangers to feel some ease). A cunning fringe swept like a bride’s veil across the eyes he sought to find so desperately, so instead his own mossy gaze settled upon the curve of her sooty grey lips as they returned polite greeting.  

“Name’s Banj,” the buck announced quickly, confidently, unaware of the troubles looming beneath the figure of  listening white ears. Even if there’d been trace of woe about her to clue him up, it was unlikely that his mood would have diluted. He was distracted as it were by the second name the sheila had offered, Hikari, as though there should have been another by her side. Banjo’s crooked brow danced to either side of her lean (though charmingly and proportionately curved) frame. He was almost certain she had been wading alone… He remembered suddenly the smaller shape, the seemingly insignificant animal which had been 'nearby'. Coincidence?

- Bugger me Tilda, she talkin’ bout the wolf pup? -

He found it there, with her, and snorted softly, curiously at the notion that she might have a pet. Certainly there had been no such thing in the bush. “G’day there tiger…” he offered with a dipped chin, half expecting the little dog to return tongue that made sense. Stranger things had happened recently!

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck