It was a joke. Perhaps a tasteless one that shouldn't be offered when has just met another person. One that should have waited until he's gotten the measure of the man's sense of humor before him. If he could blame someone other than himself he would.

He sat back on his own heels, hands on his knees. "You're right. I think there's a gully near."

Any sort of joking manner dropped from his expression when the trowel blade began to frost over. He didn't even notice the use of 'Tal' instead of 'Cricket'. Aisling, who had been poking at some of the plants zipped right to the blade to hover over it, the carefully approaching it as if the magic was some possibly wild animal.

"That depends, do you want my hands on you?" he said absently still watching the frost.