Heedless to any mental elipse, as he tended to be, Wren merrily followed Jeremiah, reaching out to try and pet Heart whenever he could, which made his progress a demonstration in athletic walking. Mercifully not tripping over his own feet to the extent that he faceplanted in the ground, Wren was so taken with watching the dog that he barely realised the change in terrain until he almost walked into a patio chair. Forcibly halted, he looked up properly and his mouth dropped open when he saw where they were.
"Beautiful!" he said in a soft voice, like one might use in a church. He was overwhelmed with all the things to see, the little details that made themselves noticable to him the more he took everything in: the huge windows, the doors, the firepit and the brickwork of the walls. He was stunned that he'd even spoken to someone who lived in a place like this, further startled when Jeremiah turned and spoke to him.
He nodded, too stunned to speak, and all but crept inside the house as the door was opened for him. He was as stunned by the interior as he had been by the outside, more so even. His head went up and back and back some more as he looked up at the high ceilings with their wooden beams, the charming chandelier lights and the sheer space in this house. Those huge windows flooded the place with light even in the cold dark morning, the floor shone where no carpet covered the hardwood; it was so impressive that Wren was loathe to go inside, feeling a rare sense of shame in his appearance, or at least not wanting to get the shiny floors grubby with his filthy feet and muddy hands.
He hadn't seen a house with a fire in it before, and he was amazed that it wasn't burning down around them.
He moved towards the island as he was indicated, creeping up to a seat as cautiously as he'd crept into the house in the first place. "Thank you - I don't want to get your beautiful house dirty." he breathed, sneaking up to the sink and waiting until Jeremiah turned the tap on to wash the black mud from his hands.
"Oh, no, I live in the woods." he responded easily, holding his hands out of the water when he was done and holding them, dripping, over the sink - he'd usually shake them and then wipe them off on his shirt to dry them off, but he didn't want to get water all over this nice place. "I'm making your house dirty." he said, some strange mix of apology, shock and fear in his voice when he noticed the faint marks of his little footprints across the wood. "I'm sorry!"