The clay-crafted woman stared, unblinking save for the odd bit of glowing in where her eyes had been carved into her face by the shifting muck.  "I would hope that the Tinders haven't forgotten our little arrangement.  It's been so long since I've seen any of them, come to think of it.  They're collectors, or so they've told me."  she smiles faintly, but then snaps herself back to attention towards the young tiefling's stalling.<br/><br/>"You don't have ANYTHING that I might want?"  she watches the girl's hands tremble as they run over her pouches for ideas - something, anything.<br/><br/>"Welll...now, hold on. Hold on."  the clay woman suddenly grins, though the gap between her lips is merely a perfect row of the solid mud rather than a row of teeth.  "I rather like the clothes you're wearing.  Perhaps you could be persuaded to part with say...a piece or two of it?" The muddy woman giggles, her body shivering a little.  "Unless you'd rather snuggle up with me down below for a while." she inches closer, looming merely a foot from the girl's face.  "What will it be?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>