The moth-hares still nibble happily at the offerings she'd brought, more or less oblivious to their surroundings. She risks petting one munching on an apple, and is pleased when it doesn't skitter away. The closest thing she had to a pet as a child was her horse, so this is sort of fulfilling a childhood fantasy.

She looks up at him, tracks the direction of his point and takes note of what lies that way. Her brows raise slightly, but she doesn't comment, instead turning her gaze back to him and smiling. "I'm glad we met." The sentiment is genuine, said so casually that there's no mistaking its sincerity. Belatedly, she offers: "My name is Diana. I'll look for you in town."