"Thank you." Tristan bows his head. He takes a fallen leaf and makes a larger shade for the scattered pillbugs with it. "Thank you too, little ones. Sometimes the message takes a toll on its messenger." 

He stays until he's finished his beer. He is in a communion with the woods here, not a transaction. Leaving as soon as you have what you want is [i]disrespectful[/i]. It's [i]rude[/i]. So he savours his beer and thinks for a while. Listens, and breathes. He collects the cups, and bows his head again when it's time to leave. 

Then he's off like a shot back to Nin, a thoughtful grimace. This has all the hallmarks of a Sign that'll be more obvious in retrospect. 

He considers the common themes. Something large being driven from its home, trying to move into someone else's? Conflict brought by displacement... The solution might not be bloodshed, then. Find where the threat came from, and learn why it can't go home. Or maybe just put up more of a fight than the pillbugs did.

Nin's still talking when he gets back. He'll wait for her to finish before he intrudes. If he's needed, she'll ask. 

He stands away from the stall and bouncing on his feet instead, resisting the urge to do pushups. Or chinups. Or- He hasn't fired an arrow today! Is his knife sharp? When's the last time he stropped it? (Yesterday.) Could he light a fire right now, if he needed to? (Yes.) Does he [i]know[/i]?! (No.)

[i]He is waiting very patiently for Nin from a reasonable distance, so as not to bother her.[/i]