What an absurd thing! There were dozens of things to sing about and write grand tales of other than love and heartbreak there was. Well. There were a lot, surely, but Shara wasn't a poet. What about, "War? Family? Nature?" What sort of Fae doesn't want to write about Nature, anyway? But then again, he was a Satyr, what did she expect? They had more than a handful over at parties and various galas and goodness. They were a lot of fun, especially when they made their way to the kitchens and, well, behind other doors. "I have never been in love, so I suppose I would make a poor poet."
Shara laughed at that and felt an odd bit of unexpected relief that he didn't tease her for being so old and such a homebody. Rather, she had traveled within the Summerlands, but not here so much. Her English was fine at least, though it still bore the hallmarks of someone from her region of the world or the human equivalent at least. The hand in his hair slipped down to trace idle swirls around his spine, soaking up the affection that she had missed since she left home, missing it more than she had realized. "That's true! I'll be trying marijuana soon enough, what's next I wonder?" Even as she turned towards him with a playful wink she noticed that now that she was nearly done with her second glass of rather strong booze(and her relaxation that Sid was giving just by being himself) said accent was thickening, but she really didn't think he would judge her.
Shara left the house alone for the moment, though she felt it's happiness at being acknowledged and respected. "That's true. Fae homes do tend to have a life of their own, even here. This is something precious, Sid. You're very lucky."