[Arkham Street - Black Goat Woods]
Recent events have certainly opened Braeg to the possibility of spending time with foxy company. With all the time he's been spending at Inari's temple, it's almost a matter of courtesy. And if this nine-tailed trickster was half as witty as their collective reputation suggested, he'd be in for a stimulating evening even if she got the better of him.
Braeg passes by the vat of grapes to grab a pair of wine steins in preparation of his approach. He could make his own if he needed to, possibly even a superior vintage, pressed from fond memories and fermented with forlorn melancholy at the inexorable march of time, but that might be a bit much for a first impression. Better to stick with familiar elements for now.
"Ladies." Braeg gives a cordial nod as he passes between a female satyr (satyrette? Is that what they're called?) and a dryad he's never seen before. Never mind them. He has his sights set a little higher.
"Pardon me." The fiendling lord says, as he finally approaches the kumiho. "I find myself rather befuddled at an odd circumstance. I'm surrounded by a raucous party, with much singing, much dancing, much drinking, and in the company of fair folk of all stripes. And yet, at this same party, I see what may be the fairest, sitting silently apart from the rest; not singing, not dancing, and it seems nobody has even done you the courtesy of bringing a drink." He gives her a small smile and offers her one of the steins of wine. "A curious riddle, isn't it? One can't help but wonder as to the answer."