As you approach, The Count stands statuesque, his pristine coat catching the sunlight in an almost ethereal glow. He seems lost in thought, his deep, intelligent eyes scanning the horizon—until you step within eight feet or so. His ears twitch, and with an almost theatrical flutter of his long lashes, he turns his gaze toward you. A soft, knowing whinny escapes his lips, delicate yet deliberate, as if he’s already sizing up your intent. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, almost as if Dutch's horse is daring you to take another step closer. Weird.