She isn't threatening-- not more than she needs to be. Jael is deeply, eerily bitter. Her recent run-in has left her rather sour on her experiences outside the pack. No one within the Raiders had treated her poorly. It wasn't them she needed to worry about. It was... pretty much everyone else so far. No, this voice didn't sound like it was attached to something that wished her harm. The fact that he sounded like someone who was upset by the idea of hurting a stranger was further proof that the bar is so low that it's a tavern in hell. Disregard the borrowed line, it's just. Come on now.
As she has the barest of comforts, Jael pushes through the tall grass. She won't be rude for any longer than she needs to be. Coming through and nearly bumping into the man-- "Oh." Startled by the things she sees in him. Jael's eyes went wide, her ears flattening back against her head. Though she recovers quickly (rock solid temperament in those cattle lines baby, even if she's got some trauma for spice), the recognition is clear. "Sorry," Jael takes a deep breath, swallowing hard. Trying to compose herself.
Right, he should know about the source of her anxiety. "I had a run in with a big bastard, black and sorta blue, stripes through his eye-- just to the south of here. Threatened to kill me, ran me off, the whole nine. Just be careful." She offered her experience as a cautionary tale, having softened from her original abrasive approach. Was she wrong to assume that just because he looked like her, she could let herself relax? Probably. But Jael didn't care about that so much. In this moment, she'll take the strange comfort in familiarity where she can get it.
"I'm Jael." Sure, she'd offer him that much too. She can't help it.
As her keepers, Gilgamesh and Modesty may join any of Jael’s threads if they deem necessary.
Professor
