Such was their difference in state and situation, Djura might have politely left the conversation there and then — primarily because he did not wish to upset a stranger's reputation by lingering in her presence. But perhaps she was older than she looked, a married lady or spinster — and a working one, no less. He reassured himself thus, for their conversation was turning out to be both interesting and heartfelt; the touch of despondency in her royal blue eyes was hard to miss.

"Understandable", the Baron agreed curtly. But he mused on the concept of punishment, and what horrors and trauma such a concept had meant during war time. Perhaps caging a poacher to give them a taste of their own medicine was the best path to rehabilitation... or perhaps not. "If only poachers would consent to education. One can't help but feel... if those that would do these creatures harm were savvy to their importance, they would not harm a hair on their head."

But as much as he was gleaning something from this conversation, he could not help but notice that the unlikely pair were drawing a few judgemental glances. Hm. He supposed it was about time he tried to find a way out. "Speaking of which... I'd best rejoin my own herd." Djura offered a polite nod — "Madam" — before making his way back along the edge of the enclosure to reluctantly rejoin the crowd only to finally escape them.