He nodded gently as she explained her view on the subject. The stallion had more or less given up on trying to figure out why the kind mare was intent on speaking about a subject that clearly made her uncomfortable. Instead he simply accepted the choice of topic, and tried to treat it as seriously as he would a war meeting - to her, it almost seemed to be.

The names she mentioned were carefully stored away in his mind, to be remembered and connected to faces at a later date. They weren't overly familiar - he'd probably heard them being mentioned sometime in passing, by gossiping mares or chatty outcasts - but information was information. It would always be of use, eventually, some way or another.
A hoof shifted, skin on the shoulder twitching as the first horsefly of the season tried to make a snack out of him. It was persistent, buzzing around under the warmth of the sun; the second time it landed and tried to bite he swung the head around and chomped at it with large ivories, a movement so unconscious that didn't take away his attention from Tor in the slightest.

Therefore, there was no doubt in his mind that he'd heard her correctly, as she delivered the conclusion of her thoughts. Lace froze, body growing absolutely still - breath held, heart almost stopping in the chest. He had to pause and reverse the words, to make sure it wasn't something he'd made up in some subconscious daydream, unnoticed slipping into the conversation.

But no, that wasn't the case.

Very, very slowly, almost cautiously, he turned his head back and met the gaze of the mare - Tor, the vagabond, the roving healer. Yes, this was Tor. He'd met her three, maybe four, times? Each meeting had been a disaster, between storms, wolves, misunderstandings and undead magicians, with no chance to really stop and talk. What did he know about her? Next to nothing. What did she know about him? Probably even less, because Lace wasn't very talkative about his past - or anything of importance, actually.

"I..." he started, but then quickly interrupted himself, eyes locked on the mare - the very adult and independent mare - who stood before him, quiet and vulnerable. Lace quickly reassessed the situation in his mind, tried desperately to find a reply that would be kind, true... He found none.
"I don't know what to say" he admitted quietly and lowered the head, breaking eye contact to give both himself and her room for thought. But maybe thoughts weren't what was necessary here?

She loved him? Mind boggled at the very thought of all it implied, sending heat to his face and made the heart rate pick up. He couldn't remember when a mare had said that to him last, said it and actually appeared to mean it. Love, honest and true, was a foreign concept to him, a dream and something spoken of in fairy tales. It had no place in the land he had grown up in, nor had it been something he encountered in all the long years on the road.

Wordlessly the gilded stallion stepped closer, very carefully as not to startle his friend, and reach out the neck to press the cheek against hers. An eye of liquid honey peered into hers as if to try and view the feelings she claimed to hold for him; ever kind, warm, grateful... and sad. Because as much as he wanted to bring a smile to her lips, his heart didn't move at her words. Perhaps it was too early, perhaps it was a feeling he would never hold for someone - perhaps she just wasn't the right one.

He didn't say anything. There were no words to describe the emotion that filled the chest and made it hard to breath. All he could do was offer his shoulder, should she want it - it was all he had.