No new finds, for better or for worse; no new turns, for better or for worse. Not yet, at least -- he would be aghast to sleep or leave or so much as call it a day if he did not take so much as one turn that he had never taken before. What else was there for him? What other purpose could he possibly serve?
But seldom did he find another on his excursions, seldom did a turn -- let alone a turn he had taken at least fifty times before -- pop him out by another person. A person he had not seen before. A person he was decidedly unfamiliar with.
Redford was small.
He was familiar with most, if only in passing.
Alas, he could not hold onto that stoic demeanor -- that immediate reaction to show and be and do nothing -- upon hearing the question, so genuine in its nature. Hell, he may as well have been a piece of folklore, a cryptid in his own right! He may as well have been a ghost, no?
But that didn't mean he would answer the question, simply keep his arms crossed across his chest as he did his best to suppress a bit of a chuckle. "Seen some." A half lie, a half truth. "Right out that way," he said, nodding his head to the woods just beyond the lake.
Someone he had not seen likely meant someone new; someone new meant someone who needed more exposure to their legends, no?