He gives no indication he's listening outside of watching her as she speaks. No nod at her explanation, not thoughtful hum. He is silent, observant, though not entirely still with the young horse quietly whinnying for more pets that Barnabas acquiesces to a measured degree.

For all he has been polite, there is still just an oddness in how he holds himself. Sometime a little detached, perhaps disinterested, yet he engages well enough to carry a conversation.

He says nothing at her name, no offer of false pleasantries of making her acquaintance. Neutral as all else, though her question does bid him to answer.

"I am not the sovereign of these lands in the manner you inquire. My title is carried from my world, though it serves more as a vessel of context, than one of authority. You may refer to me as you wish."

Then he looks off at Stonhyrr, roughly a half an hour's walk from here. Not problem for him, but for her? He supposes they will see.

"We should begin walking, ere the chill lays further claim to you."

Not him, however. Whether this is just because he's used to the cold, or it cannot effect him in a way that matters, well! Anyone's guess, really.