[with the butterflies fluttering about, completely oblivious to the trouble the more humanoid individuals are dealing with, he's had no shortage of things to listen to. they're enough for a sharp-witted mercenary used to interpreting the vagueries of the creatures to understand, so he's not entirely unaware when she approaches.

his gaze drifts from the colourful little friends to her moments before the connection is made, and under normal circumstances, it wouldn't matter. Luke would leave her to go and that would be that.

these aren't normal situations, though, not by a long shot.]

... it's fine. There's room for two— [Luke has a slight build, after all.] —but sitting in this dome may not be ideal.

[his breaths are shallow, more out of necessity than the heat itself. spicy new pollen, the butterflies had called it. how... apt. a clawed hand extends toward the space nearby, an almost absent offer of company.]

I'm just observing the butterflies a little longer. To ensure this place isn't harming them for the sake of its whims.