She wondered why he was lying.

For that reason she stayed where she was, nestled in the crook of two tree trunks, each gently pressing against her sides, the bark prickling her hide. She did not purposefully seek the rough hands of the trees for any psychobabble bullshit, but rather because of the great vantage point it provided of the two equines, yet keeping her in the shadows of the woods. She was not obscured, just easily overlooked by the peripheral.

His stuttering suggested he was new to lying, or unprepared to do so. Her gaze narrowed, calculating which was the most likely. Not enough information her mind reproached, so her gaze turned to the girl.

What luck for Colt to find two candidates, though the mare seemed less desirable. She was so, peppy that Colt couldn't picture her being of any help in war, much less one capable of being mean to anyone, mutant or otherwise.
I was that way, once Colt reflected, choosing not to count the paint horse out just yet.

At the very least she could be a body on the front lines, nothing more than a barricade of meat to shield the stronger fighters behind her.

Colt shook her head, getting back to the task at hand. She's pretty, Colt mused, wondering if perhaps the stallion was stuttering in attempt to feign shyness to coax the mare's nurturing nature into effect - would he then take advantage of her, perhaps shoving her against one of these very tree trunks and roughly grinding his hips against her tail dock and what lie beneath it?
Even worse, would Colt be trapped in these trees and forced to witness such depravity?
No she swore, casually. She would not be afraid to exposure herself should such occur, because she was not afraid of him.

Stay on task she chided herself, sounding nearly like The Incendiary shoving his nose into her training.
She shook that version of the stallion away, the motion causing her weight to sway. A brittle twig snapped under her hoof. She froze.

Go she urged herself, striding forward so her head poked through the branches. Hastily she wiped the wide-eyed look of someone caught red-handed off her face, opting for a casual smirk instead. It slid into place easily.

"What happened to your old start?" Colt drawled, almost lazily, as her gaze drifted from the paint mare to the stud.
Why are you lying?

Her gaze hung on him, a metal knife slowly dragging down a wall.

Luckily neither of the two horses become hostile at Colt's abrupt appearance and interjection into their conversation. Although it would have been idiotic of them, considering the surplus of bodies and greetings in this forest, she would not have been surprised to have met teeth and absent ears.

Her opinion of them improves by the minute.

Cassenchi's towards her seemed to be fading however, as his voice nearly sneered at her in response. He stayed polite, but the intention behind his emphasis on you was made clear to the brindled mare. She simpered, unperturbed by his underlying ire. Most liars grew agitated when they felt over-analyzed, a high risk of their deception being blown.
He needn't worry though, Colt didn't blow anyone.

He continued on then with some new-found energy, such was the endless breath he took to spin his web ever tighter. Throughout it all Colt could only feel the ridiculousness being piled on - and how willing to share all of it so suddenly, when he'd been more private before. It did not allay her interest in him in the least bit.
Of course there was a probability he was being honest, even if in part, but Colt preferred to see the worst in everyone, that way she'd never have crushed expectations when they turned out to be exactly as she imagined. If anything she was setting herself up for success with her cynical nature, allowing others an opportunity to prove themselves better than her judgments on their character. It was a kindness to be sure.

The painted girl to the side of the stallion seemed receptive to the tale however, her tones no less spritely and unbearable as before, overly saturated with happiness and naivety. At one point, at the mention of peace, Colt could no longer bear the excess honey and snorted in disdain. She caught herself as soon as the nasal spray was spreading though and shook her head and swished her tail, playing it off as an irritating fly, of which there was certainly plenty in the season.

The conversation lulled for a moment, then Colt found the attention thrust upon her. She flicked her gaze, colored like flint, over to the gullible girl. "Colt," was all she gave in response, offering no smile or otherwise to suggest the word was a joke. She let her gaze hold Kahlua steady for a few breaths afterwards, then shifted the metal of her eyes upon the stallion once more. "A thief you say?" Colt asked, picking up on the only part of his lie she took any interest in. "Do all thieves admit to their line of work or is that just the honest sort of fellow you are?" She grinned, but there was little comfort in the motion. "It's a unique talent to be sure..." A useful one, if he actually had it. If he did, was he any good at it?

Colt's gaze drifted back to Kahlua, whom she'd mostly given up on by now, but she was trying to be accepting of all equines of all types. Ricochet certainly wouldn't be pleased if all Colt managed to recruit was a giddy filly though.
"What home did you say you'r from again?" Her head turned back upon the brown stag, "I'm of the Foothills, I could certainly use an equine of your sort among the green slopes."
Colt glanced to Kahlua then, trying a kinder smile for her. "You as well, if your allegiance ever changes."

"I don't promise much if I can help it, but there's mares to be found there, maybe even peace. Either way it's certainly a start."
The only romance Colt found in the Foothills was her passion for the good grazing. The only peace to be found would be in the future, when all the herd but its equine nature had been eradicated.

He tightened like a snake preparing to strike and Colt grew more cautious. What was initially amusing and interesting became dangerous, her gaze sharpening upon him as she took a step back towards the woods, feigning a shift in balance. He obviously did not find humor in her perceptiveness, although that wasn't so much the cause as her wariness driving her to imagine the worst - his actions only furthered as proof to her wild ideas.

He does not act on it however, preferring to keep wielding his tongue instead.
She relaxes in body, but her mind remains attentive to him.

"Pity," she replies to his speech on returned morals and ethics. The loss is in more way than one with his decision to join the painted mare of smiles and ignorance. Wind blew from Colt's nose in defeat, but she would easily forget this encounter and its loss, though she would nor forget him. She had a feeling she'd made an enemy tonight, and not just by failing to gain a member of the empire.

"I can't wait to see you again, then, Kahlua." Colt murmurs as a way of farewell, turning to drift back into the thick of the forest where she might find another equine to spy on. "Good luck on that start," she calls back over her shoulder to the stallion, just as the shrubbery engulfs her.