Conan muttered a quick thanks as he came up off the ground. "Not common really, I don't think but, like, it's still fun," he proposed, not that the "fun" of that game was anything she could care about. He was not about to offer her to join them. (The temptation to ask was there but he held back. Better sense it would be not to invite strangers to play.) His dignity could perhaps be saved if he made it seem like this foolishness was worth all the fun he claimed.
"Maybe your dogs want to play. Uh, I guess they'd win at hide and seek though. Seeking, at least, right?" He laughed openly at his own joke. Even he could read the samurai's reservations from her but it was another feat to accommodate. Where she held back, he held his arms and heart open, foolishly welcoming.
The boy brushed his hands off on his pants again, a nervous tick, a bad habit. He was wet from snow, and now stained with dirt and grass, none of this as much his concern as it was his mother's. Conan reached out a hand without thinking to scratch Edmond's ears. The "usually" was lost on him. All Conan heard was "friendly" and this was enough of a flashing invitation.