Perhaps it was arrogant of him to have that kind of faith in his own abilities, that certain knowledge that even if Voodoo had intended to harm him, he would've been able to keep the red horn at bay. But at the same time, he had spent so much time around unicorns that even if he could not defeat his opponent, he could at least lead him on a merry chase, out of reach. The best defense was, after all, to outrun your opponent, if you were hellbent on getting away unscathed. Though, he wasn't sure he could outrun Voodoo, but in a dance here at the roof of the world, he was fairly sure he could keep out of his reach, until they both grew tired and tumbled down, or something. But that would've been unsatisfactory, some form of cowardice even – didn't Mauja always say, that being a King was not about ruling, but about being there for his people? Serving them, while helping to guide, protect and organize them? So what kind of leader would he be if he had danced, tauntingly, outside of Voodoo's reach while still being the one to have invited him? He'd offered himself up as a punching bag, and using his experience to bereave him of the promised release.. no. It wasn't something he would do.

And speaking of the release... Mauja's prompting drew forth a sigh, and a half-positive answer. He wasn't sure if it was true uncertainty, or meant that it hadn't helped but he didn't dare say it. He was on the verge of arching a snowy 'brow when Voodoo's searching eyes found his, and held them, saying thanks, and Mauja's 'brows stayed put. Perhaps it had helped, then, or mostly helped? Briefly he considered the young stallion in silence, simply breathing, before giving a rather firm nod. "I'm glad," he finally said, painfully aware of the fact that he didn't know Voodoo's name – but then again, his presence in the Basin had been scarce as of late, so he did have somewhat of an excuse, didn't he? At least, he hoped so, but said nothing of it yet, instead continuing to peer at him, a thousand questions spinning through his mind. Where did he come from? What did he want of the future? What did he think of the hornless? What did he dream of at night?

But such questions were far too intimate to ask of a near-stranger, even if you shared a home with him, and Mauja didn't voice them, at least not that time. Perhaps another day would find him less restricted. "What had you riled up anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" The query was poised in the same polite manner as most of Mauja's speech, open and honest, matched by his searching gaze – somehow, he had found a way to keep both mind and face clear, a combination of tone of voice and expression that seemed to convey that he would not judge what he heard.. a state of mind that allowed him not to judge, until he had all facts on the table.