The centaur could feel mild irritation wash over him as fatigue started to kick in, his body taking his lack of movement as a signal to prepare for sleep. It wasn't a bad irritation to Fakir. More like dealing with a hyperactive colt who just kept asking questions, even as the stallions started to settle down. Fakir debated to shushing Mesut, as stallions often did to startle colts to silence. But Mesut was a naga, and Fakir wasn't sure if Mesut would react the same. Or indeed, if he should do it at all since they were both adults. Or, he was fairly sure Mesut was grown. He had seemed to indicate he knew what sex is, and may have participated (Fakir was a bit foggier there) but had otherwise been cared for. Perhaps nagas were not expected to do anything other than participating in ceremonies and otherwise be exalted, so they were not given broad educations.<br/><br/>The centaur did openly yawn before shaking his mane, tail flicking absently. "I don't believe I will step on you. But I've never slept with anyone by my hooves either," Fakir said, blinking heavily to chase sleep away a bit longer. He knew he was being indulgent, and he'd have to choose a less fickle way to interact with Mesut. But they were both talking to foreign creatures with foreign cultures. This was new territory, and the centaur also didn't want to heap additional stress on the naga. It was definitely a conundrum. He didn't want to lead the naga on, after all. Once they arrived at Mesut's temple, Fakir would simply leave and probably never see him again. There was no point trying to become close unless Mesut could somehow convince the temple to specifically buy wares from Fakir's herd everytime he passed by.<br/><br/>Fakir didn't move when Mesut slid into a new position. Only as soon as the naga settled did he turn his face down to look at the other, half amused, half exhausted by the snake's wiggling. A snort, heavy and strong, brushed Mesut's face from Fakir stifling laughter as the snake tickled the seamless joining of his two halves. "Hmm. I like individual humans. But humans as a whole can be dangerous, and I had to learn that in many difficult lessons," the centaur drawled slowly. "It's instilled a sense of caution in me. I generally will not trust strange humans until I get to know them one way or another. I mostly trust other merchants of reputable trade or humans I met frequently on my travels who offer me shelter," Fakir said slowly as if musing if there should be a reason he shouldn't be so mistrusting. "I suppose if you never met anyone other than your priests and acolytes, you may have always remained fond of humans," he finally answered.<br/><br/>As the questions turned to his herd, a light lit his eye, a grin curving his lips. It seemed home was a topic he could get a bit more animated about. "I am among the smallest stallions. The mares tend to be bigger than me as well, or equally my size," Fakir answered. "The largest stallion, and also our lead right now, is a good two heads taller than me, and considerably heavier. And no, my herd is typically all black as I am. We have a few females with a slightly red-black coat, and others may have specks of white, but we're generally dark coated," Fakir answered. "Other centaurs may be different. Most are typically smaller than my herd, but also faster. They are not as strong, though, and do not endure as well in long trips. However, they do have more varied coats. The colorful, smaller centaurs tend to live in warmer climes," he explained. "Even their hair is different. Not many other centaur breeds have our wavy hair," Fakir added, looking a bit less sleepy than a moment prior.