[She can't read thoughts, luckily, or the shaman would probably have some choice comments about what the young man's father could do with himself. It wouldn't be polite, most likely.

Alastirra keeps her distance, not from lack of concern, but because he seems like if she did, he'd bolt out of...possibly shame, from his demeanor and his words. Neither of which, she feels, would be good.]

I fear I do not know what you mean by a quirk; but if it is any consolation, I cannot hear the elements, and that is unusual to me, as well. How very quiet it is!

It must be something about this place. Perhaps they are sleeping. Perhaps your quirk, then, sleeps with it?

[Really, she's only speculating, here, the Draenei has no clue. But her attitude is kindly, and she offers a smile, should the young man bother to look her way.]

My name is Alastirra. Who are you?