Lewin looked at the man. White hair, arcane skills - and the unnatural calm of before had vanished, replaced by Lewin's usual shrewed caution and apprehension. While he was certainly more on edge now, on a deeper level, that put Lewin at ease. And with his mind cleared, his instincts (and the primal forces augmenting them) reassured him his mind was no longer being tampered with. Oddly, the sarcasm also reassured him further; The man was annoyed, but not scared of his failure - which means the magic was simply a means to get on board, and the stranger did not care weather or not Lewin liked him. As such, betrayal was probably not on his mind - those kinds of people usually tried to put your guard down, which this man didn't. When all was said and done, Lewin now considered it less risky to let the man on board and proceed as planned, rather than risk a conflict now that he was somewhat weakened. He put down his sword, and spoke in a tribal tongue - to confirm his suspicions about the man's race.<span style="color: #808040"><span style="font-style: italic">"Sa'ba qcosh'el zar scheim brzi'ttla."</span></span>He then took a seat, simple as that.