"He's handsome," buys Ellis a little time to consider the gloves. A small kindness. And they'll be of use, in the journey through the Anderfels. Ellis hasn't forgotten how miserable the terrain can be.

One bare hand strokes up the horse's shaggy neck.

"We'll get on well enough, I think."

Well enough to think of a name? Maybe. Ellis' naming skills are perhaps less imaginative than Adrasteia might be hoping for.

His attention shifts back to her, grip flexing on the gloves.

"Thank you."