Tark wasn't alone in his shuffle towards the Arena, though it might take him a little while to notice that someone was tailing him through the streets of Las Noches. But as he sniffed around he'd hear the throaty chuckle as his hidden observer came out of the shadows and into the light.

"Beeeaaarrrr-kuuunnn, ya aren't sniffin' for lil' me, huh?" comes the wicked little drawl as the slight figure moved towards the lumbering Privaron Espada. The pressure around this slight...girl was like having a blade at one's throat, but Tark might not be self-aware enough to realize the intensity of the feeling or be capable of respecting or fearing that sensation.

Genoveva, the Primera Espada, approaches the big man with a casual demeanor that others might not be able to replicate. Besides Talon that is.

"I could hear ya a mile away, ya know? Real noisy knuckle-dragger, but that's what I love about ya Tark. Yer no nonsense. Yer big. And ya kick ass. An' I need a fella who can kick ass, am I lookin' at the right boy or do I need to keep lookin'?" Genoveva says familiarly, reaching out to pat the muscle-bound man on the arm with a crafty look in her eyes, "A fella to make his bonnie beau proud, eh? What do you say Tark?"

Her voice is coy and savage at the same time, the perfect tone to settle a rampaging beast. That wasn't quite what Tark was, but the same methods should work. The Primera was nothing if not observant, especially of those who had fallen since they could always make another ploy to get on top. She wasn't worried about that, from Tark, but in the course of watching Talon's empty court (with some amusement at that) it was impossible not to notice the connection between the two.