Gale cuts his gaze away, and the warmth leaves his expression. He doesn't become cold so much as blank, like a closed door.

He clears his throat to reply. "No, I'm afraid I won't be answering that question. I apologize." Tara silently moves to his side of the table, butting his chest with her head. Right above her furry head, black tendrils peak out from beneath the neckline of his robe. It looks like perhaps some sort of tattoo. Tara rubs her entire body against Gale, hard enough that it pushes him back in his seat, and he smiles a little, burying his fingers in her fur. "You may ask something else, though, if you like."