[He may be feeding squirrel-Jinx peanuts. He'll also gladly hand over the scarf, unwinding it from around his neck and delicately placing it in her other outstretched hand. It probably smells like alcohol.]

I'm not yet good at "sparring" in a context outside of war... [He has to remind himself not to draw blood when he's friendly-fighting allies, listen.] So perhaps it would be better for us to work together, rather than against one another.