"I'm not sure if I can do that." Wric answers honestly his throat sounding drier than it intended. Oh God, you idiot? What are you you doing? His internal monologue screams at him. He extends his hand, and takes her but does not squeeze down. Using his strength to tug the smaller nymph till she was snuggled tight against his chest. The much taller Satyr towering over her as he looks her down like a pack of wolves in frenzy around an injured deer. "Just slap me if I'm wrong on this.." he murmurs head shifting downwards till lips ghost over hers, and finally contact. His arms rounding her waist, and squeezing her petite frame gently.