Dillie almost waggles the cheese crackers and the protein bar back and forth, just to see if the fae creature's eyes track them. She chooses self preservation and stomps down hard on that urge. It helps that she, herself, is distracted when they use their antlers as a makeshift pantry. She's struck by the image of apples dangling from the branches, candlestubs lit on the prongs, strings of popcorn strung between the rack. In her defense, it's seasonally appropriate.

She blinks that picture away, and in so doing loses track of her host. As she's casting around, reflexively looking down for foot--hoof?--prints in the loamy soil, their voice pipes up behind her. She mostly manages to tamp her surprised jump down to a spin.

They've got the serrated edge of the cheese cracker packet between their teeth, which doesn't prevent them from asking a potentially loaded question. Dillie has to check both her immediate answer (By my watch, usually) and her offer to help them get at the snack. One could be too open ended, the other insulting.

"Well, I work night shift usually," she smiles back. "So how about moon phases?"