Truth be told, she hadn't expected to meet a werewolf around here. To her knowledge, the wolf-folk kept to themselves out in the wilderness, rather than prowl the alleyways of a black market. She was deeply fortunate that this one had broken the mold, however, otherwise there might have not been anyone around to help her just now.<b> "I accidentally bumped into a pair of ogres as I was, ah, leaving one of the shops." </b>she explained to the shadowling, filling him in on the spectacle he had missed. Almost every vendor in this place had some degree of illegality in the goods and services they offered, though she felt it was best not to mention the goblin poacher she had been sent to collect from.<b> "One took issue, and probably would have smashed me to a pulp if Gray hadn't stepped in." </b>Apparently such altruism was not a rare display with him, as the spectre proudly claimed. Gray, for his part, had seemed to sober somewhat, as if recalling something unpleasant, though he perked up at his companion's praise. The snarling beast who had just faced down an ogre seemed to be gone for the moment, replaced by a more placid, almost withdrawn soul.<br/><br/>She accepted Red's introduction with a polite nod, tufted ears bobbing with the motion. Gray and Red...she wondered if they preferred to go by aliases as she did, although their reasons for doing so were likely very different than hers. At his question, she looked back to her satchel, opening the flap to show Red the contents.<b>"Oh, home," </b>she said, her tone becoming one of resignation.<b> "Back to my master's keep." </b>The fortress of crawling flesh and black stone was a piss-poor excuse for a 'home', but it was all she really had at the moment.<b>"He calls himself the 'Good Doctor', though he's really more of an alchemist than a proper doctor." </b>She snorted quietly, sounding almost bitter.<b>"'Sawbones' may be a more fitting title for him..."</b><br/><br/>As she spoke, she was aware of a tingling about her throat, as if an invisible choker was pressing lightly to her flesh. In all her years of serving him, she had come to know just what it was that he did up in his laboratory--after all, she was a product of it herself. But the Good Doctor generally preferred his projects remain secret, and he simply couldn't have a chatty little servant spilling the beans to those who might oppose his interests. If she didn't want the geas he had placed on her long ago to choke her breathless, she would need to pick her words carefully.