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HORUS absolutely beams, grinning up at Zevemar as he stammers and blushes. A thrill, a feeling of absolute satisfaction courses through him... even though it was [i]not[/i] his best attempts at flirting. He wants to continue this conversation, ask what is so unusual about his name, and make that icy mask melt away. 

Alas, HORUS is reminded that they are not alone.

His attention snaps to the elf, Iolanthe, and his smile falters at her question. HORUS crosses his arms over his chest - guarded and small, unlike his usual dramatic demeanor - and he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha ha.” He digs a sandal clad foot into the dirt and leans toward her, sarcastic in his words and closed off in his movement. “Enough pleasantries, then. You two were eyeing me from across the square. Was there something you needed?”