Gosling blinked a few times, her brow furrowing only slightly as she tried to think if her wiles were working on this man. Others were staring at her in the room - certainly she was doing all the right actions. Sticking out her leg to the side, she smoothly ran a hand up her thigh, finger fingering the leg, slowly drawing up the skirt of her dress.

Keep going, Philomel repeated. Keep getting him to talk about himself.

A male voice merged with hers into Gosling's opened mind. It hummed and sounded like a growl of a beast. They do like that, Veridian mused.

“Sir. Return to your seat.” The Huntsman suddenly said, his head tilted to one side as he stared - glared really - at someone behind Gosling. She heard a shuffle of feet.

Looking around she saw a man who had his eyes wide slowly taking his chair again. She paused. So the 'leg reveal’ did work, just not on this Huntsman. Perhaps it was not clear enough. She moved a little, swinging herself so her legs were both out from under the table. She crossed them, hand on the edge of her dress at her knees, fingering the hem of it and 'accidentally’ pulling it up very slowly.

“Tell me more about this 'boar,'” her lips formed and her tongue pronounced the word like it was a foreign delicacy. The Hunter sat back, his head tilting upwards enough that she could see his eyes closing as he thought.

“The boar. Stood approximately six feet at the shoulder, and was roughly four feet long. Tusks were a foot in length each, average reflexes for a beast of its size. Made its home deep in the woods, beyond the logging area, but had recently begun encroaching into new territory, cause currently unknown. There was a harvest festival coming up, the Headman of the village asked me to hunt the beast down, and bring it back as the centerpiece of the meal. Tracking it through the woods to its lair took roughly an hour, sped up by its stropping marks against trees. The fight took roughly ten minutes, mostly due to its size. It bled, quite a lot.” As he spoke, his voice was dry and methodical, like he was reading nothing more interesting than a shipping manifest. Until he reached the end. For a brief, brief moment there was a smile, sharp and hard, on the lips of the Hunter, but then it was gone almost as fast as she blinked at him. The dark skinned elf sat forward, and looked to her over his glasses.

“Satisfactory? And you will catch cold here if you don't right your garments.”

Frowning, Gosling stared for a moment at the man, trying to remember when he had even looked down? Her eyes blinked a fair few times as she sipped back the drops of wine she had in her mouth. Then, slowly, she tilted that glass back to the table. It landed with a light clunk.

“You may not be of interest to me after all,” Gosling said, pushing her skirt back down. Was this man … was he homosexual? Perhaps that was why he did not find her flirtation seducing. Her frown increased.

Wait, he might prefer the more feisty type, Philomel suggested.

“Perhaps you are actually rather useless. Just a boar? No more than a pig.”