The convo was moving along swimmingly, thought Banjo as he eased back against the sturdy pillar of tail beneath him to mull over the words, more so the detail, getting about between this funny-looking crew. With one hand raised amusingly, he clawed gently at the fine spray of golden whiskers beneath his chin and pondered, a warm, contented smile numbing his rather roo-coloured features. Glinting green eyes roamed thoughtfully from the taller of the two branch-heads to the smaller. He might have loved to know just how their fancy headwear came to be (there were no such thing as deer in the outback), considering of course, the very unorthodox creation of himself. The same question had entertained his thoughts when first he had seen Ashamin’s little entourage - and this time again, he found himself staring down a tree, an old shaggy one who perhaps hid devious fetishes himself!

The tune of the sheila’s voice soon melted away into the soft murmur of the wilderness around them and with the rise of the golden bloke’s own, Banjo returned focus to listen - well tried. All beer and no froth was the impression he took really, and there was a queerness about him too, an unsettling quietness that was only actually (barely) obvious when he did speak up and sound like something. His little dark brown side-kick on the other hand seemed bright and on target; far less surly, and rather cute with all the unusual swirls and stripes across his coat… Large ears did however fall forward again as the golden one made further mention of these herds; although not Elspeth’s home naturally, which she had kindly described already. Interesting too he had noted, that ‘stag-boy’ was an elk and many other horses (because equines were horses, right?) wore these, antler up there above their eyes.

Would've been a beaut feature in the desert is the design included leaves in the summer...

Learning, learning, all the time learning.

He hummed his interest quietly, raising a brow as each destination was announced in brief - especially the Falls, the boomer knew some fine fillies there already (well one in particular anyway, and it was about time he dropped her a line!). “…mmmm, me too,” he tagged onto the end of Thrano's finishing story, assuming himself a wanderer of the wilds with a nod, and at the same time sending a wink in Leif’s general direction which was intended to be more of a reassurance than anything else. “…not anything real wild about us though ay? Haha!” A half-truth, there were definitely a few nutters getting about out there...  Banjo had already offered the elk a ticket to his herd, and felt little need to push the issue. Either way (apart from perhaps with the sullen guy), there was promise of an interesting, exciting future. Just in case however, having been in this situation about as many times now as he had claws on one hand, the buck straightened, wiped his nose and grinned broadly for effect.