"Hmmm." He glances at her, unsure if he should really — keep this up. He doesn't want to talk to people, really. Doesn't want to know their faces, because that leaves the opportunity for them to get under his skin, haunt them when they die. But the chicklet seems harmless enough. He points at the horse, looking surprisingly pleased by the creature's tame nature. "Guessing you know how to ride it?"

Because you should learn. It can be fun.

He prefers cars and the roar of motorcycles, but still.

Horses are good for being discreet.