Re: The Deck, toward the Bridge
Kings had to accept strange cultural practices, and Tarzan was willing to allow her to take his arm because, obviously, that was the way things were done. He still didn't altogether trust her, particularly because she smelled like a forest fire and walked on branches, but some of his cunning made it through all the grunting and he gave her the benefit of the doubt.
He stretched up to a little more height as she came up next to him, rubbing a leaf-stained cheek with his blunt fingers and dropping his arm in its primitive set of angles and curves. There was no such thing as personal space in Tarzan's world and in the other one he was of the opinion it was a little overrated to begin with. Food and good stuff. Tarzan reluctantly nodded his tangled head, allowing her nearer to take his strong arm. He was warm even in the cold air, and to him her touch and weight were a little too smooth for natural but not exactly unpleasant.
She was not Jane, after all. Not everyone can be perfect.
His stomach rumbled so he picked up the pace, striding forward in a bow-legged decision of calloused heels. "What you?" he repeated again. "Name Lady. What you?" The two separate questions made perfect sense to him.