If she was in coyote form her ears would twitch. There's no one around, she's sure of that, having picked this particular alley for the lack of people that come down it. She's become accustomed to tracking people, figuring out when they were there last, how often they come down. This kind of life in the city, digging through the dumpsters, getting bottles and whatever else on hand thrown at her, having to dodge animal control and humans in general—this is what she knows how to do. Malia wouldn't have brought him here if she was concerned they might get caught.

For her, getting caught means, at best, death.

Still, his wariness has her listening, too, albeit probably not as intently as he is. She regards him with some measure of aloofness. His questionanswer is all the proof she needs to be sure that she's right, although she's... not impressed. She didn't expect someone so normal. Not after the things she's heard about her father.

"My mom showed me a picture, once. She wanted me to know what you guys looked like, in case we ever rant into you." Granted, that was mostly an 'In Case of Peter' scenario, but...