Of the questions begged up, it's certainly not the horse thing that brings more physical attentiveness to the smaller man. His posture straightens and he leans forward just a bit more in his seat, piercing gaze intent.

"'Less obvious ways?'" As much as it sticks in his brain like a thorn of annoyance, the idea of riding a horse registered so much less discomfort on Blake's part than the implications of this so-called touchy subject. "Mind elab—"

Blake suddenly stops, attention snapping first to the left, then upward with thin-pressed lips, and finally back down to the seat next to him. His lip curls just slightly at the sight of a splatter of snow-white bird shit that's invited itself along for the ride.

Unduly disgusted, he gets up and parks himself next to Dean. Sorry about your personal space, dude, you're squarely a better seat-mate than bird shit.

"You mind elaboratin' on that?" This time as he's finishing his question, he's sort of taken on the tense edge of a person who does not want to be shit on — in more ways than one. People everyone here can relate, he thinks, or the tension Dean mentioned would have never come up.