Delilah shrugged. "Foits is it now? Well Oim nart really one fer foitin' much mesel'. 'Tis better boi far te tark t'ings t'rou'. Der's an ald Gipsy proverb: Nay-un e'er doid fer a good tarkin teh! Moind 'ee tho', Oi manages te ke'p mesel' aloive well enough..." The flick of her hand is so fast it's a blur to human eyes and even those able to follow the easy, almost feline grace and smoothness of the movement hve no time to react. One moment the dagger in in its sheath at her hip, the next it's quivering in the wood of the table in front of Videl. The gypsy woman smiles a sly and totally unapologetic smile and retrieves her blade, sheathing it only after pricking the tip of her finger.<br/><br/>"Dasn't ye worry thee self baht moi clothin's. Oi c'n be dar near i'visible when oi warnts te be." She gave a secretive smile, as if at some private joke, especially when the red head, who had a decidedly fishy aura, mentioned the cat. But she ignored it her attention still on Vidal. "Oi'll be wahrm 'nough, 'Ee worry baht 'ee!"<br/><br/>With that she fell silent, waiting, watching, listening and apparently lost in thought. She did show a sudden interest when someone mentioned a wet dog smell, but didn't say anything. In fact, she'd smelled it too. She didn't get on too well with canines. Nor with avians, but for a somewhat different reason. Still she kept her own council.<br/><br/>When asked why she was there she shrugged. "Toim te move arn. Gypsy blood it is, te be sure, calls Oi te t' orpan roard. 'Tain't safe te travell alarn these days."<br/><br/>And she left it at that. But the figure trying to be unobtrusive by the fireplace definitely looked.... Familiar.