She holds his gaze for a long moment, her eyes narrow with thought, and then takes a few steps, circling him. Something still prickles the back of her neck, but her instincts don't mark him as a menace. Dangerous, but not threatening. Fear isn't inherently evil, her grandfather would say.

Sypha trust her instincts.

Her hands slip out of her sleeves again as she makes a decision, and one of them has two small apples in it. She offers him one. "Share lunch with me, while you dry off. Then we'll see if you actually can fly."