Oh she is coy.

Ricochet grins a wolfish thing at her smirk, his confidence solidified by that small curve of her lips and the humm of her playful voice. "Would you be so kind as to acquaint me then?" he murmurs with a touch of a gutteral growl, feral and rich with promise of what he could provide her if only he knew.

The squawking pervades the air then. Likely it had started earlier but Ricochet's ears easily tune out obnoxious pegasus sounds. The intimate moment crumbles.

The smooth edge leaves the stallion's face as something darker settles into the lines of his expression. With a sharp snap his eyes are upon the blathering bird and they have lost all they kind light previously offered to the mare. That glow has been snuffed out by the ashen foul of a fire burnt. The smoke coils in the teal of his iris as a glower that suggests malice. "Repeating yourself in a different manner doesn't give your statement more truth. The lady and I both heard you before and yet it's just as lacking no matter how much spit your tongue coats it with," Ricochet rumbles, his voice like the cool edge of a trigger about to be depressed.

The pegasus continued however, his tongue like a pink worm wagging between the darker piles of lip that never seemed to seal for more than a breath. Irritation quickly subsided within Ricochet despite this however, replaced instead with a caustic amusement. This bird made himself a better fool than he could ever manage. All the same, he could not resist ruffling those horrendous feathers. "You've made no attempt to belittle anyone because none can get smaller than you and yours," Ricochet snorted, his gaze eagerly flouncing back to the mare at hoof.

"He would ask you to walk all the way to his dust bowl only because he is too lazy to tell you about himself." Ricochet made a tsking noise in his throat, head shaking with a dramatic disapproval. "Though the name of the Foothills may be more appealing than a Throat, it would privilege me to expand on it further should you so desire." Ricochet is almost sickly sweet, a show more than anything. He shakes it off with a toss of his neck that dishevels his mane. The rough grin returns and all pretenses of a crooning gentleman dropped in favor of provocative sultries. "Truly though I am curious as to all your desires."