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She seemed to relax a little in his company, at least once she had assessed that he was no more a threat to her as he had of her. Being received warmly was half of the battle, or so Salem believed, and the fact that she chose to bestow her own little title on him firmly noted such. It appeased him needlessly, though he was also no more a prince in reality than he found he could be in his head. Still, he left her question go unanswered in favor to listen to her briefly speak.
The thing they had in common then was that they were both out of the cold, both hiding out while winter gave one last encore with such flourish and robust energy to welcome in spring. He smiled passively, yet with a knowing bobble of his head; he too had come partially in out of the cold as well. Salem longed for the creature comforts of something warmer, though he would take a drafty human refuge over trying to find somewhere else. To her question though, he went whatever riddled and old path he had taken since he had left the care of his father. “Oh, I shouldn't tell you,” he said, an amused glint in his eye. “You'd find it funny, I prefer the silly prince title.”
Still, he wondered if she would persist.