He blinks at her, slowly, before turning his head to look. Small, bright, and orange, the frog sits in the rain. His head tilts caninely as it croaks and Ryan blinks water out of his eyes again.

It's a bit silly to stand out here in the rain, isn't it.

He turns back to River and steps under the canopy, circling around behind her, breathing in her scent that fills the small dry space over the wet wood. He settles into the space on her other side, carefully not touching, carefully close enough to lean on.

If she wants.