Better and better. Tadhg doesn't relax precisely-- he never got to tense --but his smile returns to its usual levels of mellow affability. "Most certainly." Rising from the rock in one fluid motion, he offers his gracious host another of his little half-bows, one hand to his chest.

Dána circles Faramir's neck like a furry torc and dooks his approval when they turn back to the blaze. Closer to the fire, after all, is closer to the rabbit he still smells. Tadhg chuckles and rubs a finger across his four-legged friend's head and seats himself a comfortable distance from the flames. "What would you like to know?" he asks easily.