Charlie
A reaction was what she most desired, that slight probe into what she thought was some member of the local community -her ignorance be damned. Despite the frown, the words this Lumberjack offered seemed quite intriguing. No dismissal, more a man's attempt to start some type of conversation. 

At first, the rare vocals of the woodsman caught some surprise from her. It certainly matched the look of this one, quite the threatening murmur even when not intended. The Drow however wouldn't shuffle back or reconsider, simply remain in this bubble of feigned courage. Her blatant stare towards him wouldn't cease by the mere awkwardness of the situation, no, rather a controlled turn of her head after she had her fill. A swift raise of her glass again, as she took one more sip of her drink before finally offering some way of reply.

"Just.. Trying to figure out what you do. I was thinking you were some warrior at first, but that's just.. Too obvious." - And out rang the much different tunes of the Drow beside him. The foreign tone of Lazarothian culture, a flair of Eastern-European familiarity. Her words seemed soft, trained, yet offering a subtle power by every utterance she spoke. Perhaps she was use to commanding most conversations, something more surprising due to the supposedly intimidating presence that she offered her brave words to. That sidelong glance returned of course, an ever so casual bluntness to the fact she was sizing up this giant stranger beside her. How he would react, she had no idea..
Mark
It may have been ironically that he was giving her what she wanted with just asking such, but he didn't know better. And yes, despite seeming outwardly standoffish he didn't just riposte with a brutish dismissal, because his subconscious mind still laid intrigued and spun his words

His voice did drip with a earthen, hardy power, a power that its wielder occasionally loathed, with this moment being one of those occasions. He knew not of anybody that found awkward and silent walls of sturdy flesh desirable or sociable. He is again surprised that she seemed to take her time with it, and not scurry away as mist do. He hadn't met a dark elf before like he had read of in a book as a child... He had started to think them fantasy by virtue of not noticing any one that did shuffle by in a crowd. Did they all have such subtly brazen confidence?

"I'm a lumberjack. I thought *That* Was obvious." He regards his axe that he had left to assert claim over the table he started at. He wouldn't even respond to the part of being a warrior, because no... He certainly didn't come with the extrovertedness and such forced, showy charisma to fit the definition of a warrior, by romantic fantasy's standards. He did surely have the fury and anger of one, just bubbling below the surface and waiting to be riled. *The only tell to this was his cruelly muscular form and intimidatingly large frame.* When she continued to size him up as if she were going to test his mettle, he lets out a grumble that could be mistaken for a moment's thunder
"If you wanna fight, it ain't happening." He takes a guess at what the other would want, as he supposed her confidence was derived from something of a smug pretentiousness
Charlie
Oh, how one could imagine the tales of the Drow spun in a place like Alynthi. Deceptive, dangerous, meant to be treated with suspicion. A cruel history with ties to those considered a foe to all: The very Dragons that brought the downfall of the Human species. But of course, many years had passed since such a known tragedy. The Night Elf certainly were known for their pride, but this one's bold courage seemed especially unique. The act of one who knew her words well, even without the blatant show of martial might to back those words up should she ever need it. 

Still, the gruff response from the lumbering man seemed to ignite a curious perk of that Drowish brow. An ear perked from behind her silvery locks, long and let loose for the time being. She certainly had her opinions, one so blatant as to be quick with some reply. - perhaps a surprising interaction for one usually scaring those away. "A lumberjack..?" Her tune uttered in curiousity, a gaze lingering over to the suggestion of the table. And there, an axe would appear! Oh, how obvious indeed. Vierna wouldn't be made to look the fool however, a keen wit in quick reply. "Tst, is it so obvious? Some man with an axe makes him some tree cutter? I've known them being used for war, too, you know.." Her tone never seemed entirely harsh in nature, an extroverted tune clear by the way she carried herself. That much became clear at the next fling of words offered by the gruff man.

A clear show of surprise startled her expression, almost shamelessly offering some way of a snicker as Vierna made that returning glance at the Lumberjack again. - "..Heh, now you're the one not seeing the obvious. Fight you? That's.. Heh.." She seemed speechless in that moment, or perhaps just considering the words. Whatever the case, the Drow didn't seem dismissive of conversation with this Alynthi stranger. This foreign traveller ever so loved to understand this new world she had been long barren from. - "..No. No fighting. But you spoke first, so don't expect to run away from a talk so quick, Sir 'Obvious Lumberjack'." There was that casual arrogance lingering somewhere in her tone, a pride cementing her words yet it felt playful in other ways, too. She seemed good at creating some way of a friendlier atmosphere - atleast better than what one might expect from a Drow.
Mark
Santiago took no mirth in them personally, partially because nobody had ever cared to tell him such rumors and stories. In many ways, he was isolated and distant to whatever culture may have thought, and that might have been why he doesn't seem all that apprehensive of her person rather than her action. As for the dragons... Well... As a half-human himself he had been imbued with a fear of them evidently but was not very aware of Drow's role alongside them. Even if he did know, however, that wouldn't make him drop his stony expression or give anything away

He seems to pick up in the ear twitch and the cocked brow, and he thinks to himself about what he could have gotten wrong this time. And yes, much of social interaction with strangers outside of his natural element seemed a surprise to him since he did not engage in it often. Willowdale wasn't like Dalery, after all. There was none of the life and small stillness of home in it, like there was in a forest* "Yes, a lumberjack..." And he practically thunders forth a follow up "And yes, it is obvious, but maybe not to somebody who wears the wealthy's clothes." He goes and gets his axe "Anybody can tell this is a lumberer's axe, not a war axe. Us lumberjacks can afford a nice gilded war axe like the one you may have at home." He narrows his eyes at her, both implying that she did not belong here and that she would not so easily twist this back on him. His voice also remains calm

Santiago visibly and deliberately frowns when she snickers at him "We're even then, so there's no need to snicker about it. You can do that elsewhere." He merely shrugs his shoulders as he gets what he thought from her when mentioning a fight. She surely wouldn't stand up to him in that fashion, and he'll readily acknowledge that it was stupid of him to guess that first.

But he can't hold onto that feeling for long, also not wanting to leave grumpier than which he came. He rolls his eyes a bit, and groans quietly so that it instead feels like the irk of a floorboard or tremor of the ground* "Just call me Santiago. What about you?" There was no chaser about that one, at least he had returned to a more neutral state than before likely by her way of creating a friendlier atmosphere
Charlie
This one certainly pulled no punches. A quiet glance lingered down to the aforementioned clothing that clung to her, certainly a showcase of her wealth without so much of a mention of it. Of course, there lied a deeper tale to her existence here yet it seemed this Drow enjoyed watching Santiago muster his thought process. A faint hand idly tugged at a strand of the fabrics that closely clung to her neck region, a soft fidget as she looked over the man who went for his axe to proudly remark on its simple nature and of her own privileged ways. It was quite the show. 

"Tsst, okay okay.. In Shara's name, I dare not question your far wiser knowledge of axes and lumberjacking." Submitting to the superior wisdom of Santiago, the tone uttered seemed a blend of dramatic and playful. The very topic as a whole seemed to intrigue her, pale blue gaze set upon the lumberjack axe that the man keenly presented. Of course, she certainly understood the insults against her superior wardrobe and the supposed war axes darted along her walls at home, but it was a wound she best keep quiet on.

Before responding further she allowed the utterance of his name to bring her to action, a clear sign that she wasn't being entirely repulsive to this proud lumberjack and his trusty simply axe. A faint smile would be offered, yet the flair of Drow mystique best remained with those sly stares looking casually at the Half human. 

"No need to snicker? Oh, come on. Imagining us two fighting, of course there's the need. Tst, I meant no insult by it. Just.. It's amusing to me." Vierna offered, the flair of Noble speak always finding a way to seep through her foreign accent. "Quick with a name for one who wears the clothes of the wealthy, heh. Vierna." A brief nod would be offered quickly after, that faint smile returning after a fairly swift sip of her drink. Clearly, she had no plans to hide away her identity, nor attempted to bombard him with questions just yet.