Almost disinterested by this point, Eacarus shrugged, amber eyes regarding their target with something only just short of disdain. She was lithe, with muscular arms that presently were held tense, and agitated, hungering to lift her sword and draw blood. With a silent sigh, she turned to Deckan and nodded. Though not hideously ugly, the young woman's face was neither friendly or comely, particularly not now, plastered with a frustrated scowl as it were. Plain and unwashed, her face was also marred by a deep, long, two-pronged scar that began at her left cheek and sliced through her lip.<br/><br/>"Do as you please." she confirmed, watching once more as the merchant began fumbling with his trousers, struggling to get them up. Slowly and quietly, Eacarus removed her sword from its sheathe. Her armour was mainly leather and fur, perhaps not as protective as iron or steel could be, but considerably quieter. Metal was for those who were afraid of being bitten by the weapons of their adversaries; Eacarus knew she was not so careless, nor was she so craven. If she was foolish enough to give her targets the opportunity, she deserved the wounds.<br/><br/>The thought of going in for the kill, completing this task, but also of getting out of the cold lightened her spirits, "Have you any disgusting poisons for my blade this time?" she queried, as with as much eagerness as the stoic could muster. Eacarus had little talent or patience for the complexities of Deckan's field, but she did not struggle to appreciate them, particularly not the toxins and deadly elixirs he could sometimes produce. Some of them seemed little more than downright cruel, but on nights like this, when the mood was low and the tension was high, cruelty was perhaps something to revel in.