He looks at Dain in disbelief, completely confused about where this is coming from, before his brain wakes up. Does it matter why the shepherd is willing to ignore what he saw? No. No, it doesn't. Detlef breathes out a sigh of relief and nods.

"I, yes. I can't guarantee a great conversation, I'm fairly prone to puns, but in that case, welcome to the stables." He tries for a smile and manages a faint one as he gestures toward one of the stools. "That's one of the strays there, Miss Pants." True to her name, her rear legs are more fluffy than her front ones, and they're a darker shade of grey-striped than the rest of her. "She likes tum--stomach rubs. And the fellow next to her is another stray. Mister Fingersnap. I wouldn't try petting him." The orange tabby is watching them both, stretched out to ridiculous length.

Detlef closes the wide door behind the horse and leads it in to where he can loosely tie its lead near a water trough and some hay. Horses may be fine in the elements, but why leave them to be fine when they can be comfortable? A tiny white cat follows him, tapping his boot frequently with a tiny paw, and gets scooped up before he comes back over to the stools.

"And this is Moose. She's mine."