He smiled softly, slowly setting an iron chalice on a small tray with most of the food brought to them before her, pouring some of their Kuguar ale in the chalice for her. He took a small piece of his own, chewing thoughtfully as he sat in thought, stall running his paw tip along the lines quietly.<br/><br/>"Only in Hume do these lines have such meaning.." he finally muttered, holding up a paw flat before her, his palm devoid of such lines, simply a smooth pad, smaller pads webbed out along his digits to end at long black claws. Small nicks and rough patches in the sensitive flesh from a warriors life, though his body was well maintained for both tactical and spiritual reasons. Taken care both within and without.<br/><br/>He began again as he traced the lines. "I have read on the meanings of such lines etched into the palms of the Hume.." he followed the lines quietly, seeing her frustration with her own world in the deepness and length of a central lifeline trailing her palm into the joint. He was silently bemused by this, to see her so frustrated with a world she defended so stubbornly. He shook his head with a quiet smile, sipping his ale, his ears flicking softly to the music outside, his emerald gaze peering over top his chalice at her as he sipped, never seeming to miss an opportunity to observe.