Rhocanth pursed his lips and stared at his feet at the sound of laughter, embarrassed. He said absolutely nothing, oddly not wanting to draw attention to her and harm her feelings, despite being the one who was being laughed at. He would heal somehow, someday, but this was the most conversation he had had with her the entire time, he thought.
"I... I would be glad to," he agreed quietly, only gradually bringing back his gaze. "The rain is very beautiful, isn't it? The clouds are like fruit, I think. They get too full of juice, and leak."
With that, he pressed both palms to the windowsill and vaulted himself up, only slightly showing off his strength. It hadn't been too long, perhaps a handful of years, since he had grown into his own body, and being capable still pleased and surprised him. He didn't need the book-stepstool to get up, maneuvering onto the sill in one smooth push-up motion. Once settled, one leg trailing off the edge, foot swinging, he set his book in his lap.
"Ah, this? It's called an anthology. It's a collection of short stories that generally relate to one another. This one must have to do with werewolves. Do you know what those are? They are terrible surface creatures, half man and half hound, sort of like your friend's mabari. They aren't nice like him, though."