She was right. Partially. She was prattling on. Was he listening, entirely? No, not really. If anything, he was a little more distracted by the locks of brown that were framing her face and too short to successfully pull back. Her words drifted into his ears, found no permanent home, and left a little after, the only thing remaining being the slight echo of her voice.

He realised he didn't know anyone else who sounded like her. Unique, at the very least, though with the mousy brown hair, he could have mistaken her for any number of women. At least from the back. He guessed there was more to it than just a simple glance, though.

"Eh," he almost answered without much else. "Nah. Just a luxury Alaskan dog racers or soldiers can't afford."