“Did you hear that howl?”
"More than likely a wild dog: there's a bunch around here. They're harmless if you throw a sandwich at them, or if you don't get too close."
He says this absently, one hand on his hip and the other flicking a lighter: silver gift from a friend, a thing from so many years ago that the motion of snapping the thing's lid had become second nature as a nervous to. Yes, the howling could be dogs, but in this world of mages, vampires, and werewolves -- and more besides, anything was possible (horrifyingly, this was simply a mundane fact of life).
He offers his most disarming smile, stuffs the lighter back in his pocket, and rocks on his heels. Ah, this man is someone likely in need of reassurance that his own version of mundanity (not the one Atram knows) is the truth, and so he keeps on with the calm white lies one expects of a concerned parent.
"If you have somewhere you need to be, I can make sure you get there safely. It's no trouble to me."