"And what, mistress, would you call the difference between sense and wisdom? Much wisdom is sense worn in, like a shoe, by time, think you not?" and that's a question of some interest, worth an answer.

"I think," I say, measuring out those I know, "wisdom's sense worn in, but with some mind for others, even if there's no particular care for them..." Glance to the Shuck again, and show my teeth quick and dry afore looking back to the travelling man. "Think that's less common in folk than it might be, and rare enough to find in hound, any chance of his to finding you aside."

Lays out how he came t'know the Shuck in pattern and voice minds me of old words in times and places past. "Or perhaps as you say it is sense rather than wisdom, but in any case I'll drink to his safe return. Will you join me, mistress?" and some startlement crosses my face at that, but think I keep the edge away and down.

"Say rather t'your luck in finding him again," I say, considering him thoughtful, and weighing this out. Guess he may be knows something of an oddity to his dog, but there's sure enough enough of those these nights. "'m Glass Beddau, and missed your name?"