"Well, he's quite welcome." Robin went back to what remained of his meal. Pressing his thumb into the soft middle of his remaining bread, he formed a dent in which he'd scrape together the last of the squirrel meat and tuck it in there. A trick, of sorts, from the Holy Land. The last of his food was finished quickly (for someone not raised by wolves) and he was left with the glow of the fire and the company of Lady Kestrel and her 'brother'.
"He really says all that? You know, when you say he says things..", Robin queried. His gaze shifted slowly between girl and wolf as though one, if not both, were in on some joke. "I never imagined animals to be all that talkative."