Well, that little tidbit of knowledge was enough to make his metaphorical ears perk. Dane and the Werewolf, while important to his people for obvious reasons, was also a famous text among the true-men; that this Chasind woman-hunter didn't seem to know of the word werewolf, much less its meaning, made for some interesting implications - best of all the lack of prejudice for him and what he was. That Aedre thought him some sort of spiritual guide, he was completely unaware of - and similarly, the sudden volley of questions shoved at him like a bouquet of inquiring flowers was met with blinking confusion, his blonde brows knit over his yellow eyes. Such a stark change, from recalcitrant woman-hunter to an abundance of curiosity and words! The sheer rapid-fire quality of her questions had him standing still for a moment, trying to puzzle out if she was attempting to make a fool of him. But no; even on two feet, with a considerably less keen nose, her scent did not betray mockery of any kind, and so with a thoughtful look and a roll of those yellow irises heavenward, he began to answer her questions, one by one in the order they were asked. He could be quite literal-minded, the wolf in the shape of a man, but he was used to thinking in canine patterns and not human ones. As he could have told her, wolves - true ones, not werewolves or shapeshifted men - were very literal creatures.
"Yes, there are more of my kind, but I have not seen them in years. I... suppose I use magic, but I've never really thought of it that way. I've never met any of the Dalish, which is good because my pack killed many of them, to protect the females and pups. And I'm sure there were more Dalish in the forests before they had their silly little war with Father." A pause for breath, and for a change in the direction of their conversation, apparently! Her question about the coat made puzzlement flash in those yellow irises again. "Why would I need a coat?" Clearly he was quite comfortable in his skin, even in the cool air; it had been a lean summer and was looking to be a lean winter as well, it was true, but at least his stomach did him the favor of not growling in expectance of a meal.
Her invitation to her fireside, however, seemed exceedingly odd to him, her previous behavior nonwithstanding. It seemed strange to Garrett, that a true-man would not only be unafraid of his true form - for Lissa's fear was still a wound in his side that had not scabbed over - but that the Chasind would invite him to her hearth in exchange for stories and answers to more of her questions. He looked quizzical and a little suspicious at that, circling Aedre in the fallen leaves as he considered it, and her, exactly as a wary beast might inspect some new thing before deciding if it was friend, foe or food. It didn't smell like a trap, but that didn't mean it wasn't. "Are you alone?" He asked it quite brusquely, direct and to the point. Bluntness was another of his defining traits.