There is a cough, a ragged sound, from Janna.  She hasn't moved from her position against the wall, out of reach of the reuniting party, and by the throat clearing is in the process of capping her canteen.<br/><br/>"Ah' seen women 'tacked befor an' there ain't no signs be showin' that ye're friendlies been rough'd and tossed, big girl."  The woman waves one hand at the pair, pointing to their clothes and personage.  "Don't care how much magic they migh' or migh' not be havin', they ain't god the looks of a ravageried."  She taps her head back against the unyielding stone, eyeballing the dragon, which for her probably remains the biggest question in a room full of them.<br/><br/>"No rips in the clothes, no' lastin' damages... don't know what no Glabrezu is, off the bleedin' top of me head anyway... but knowin' what I've seen so far, the prancin' one that hit me in the jaw woulda' been torn in half by some evil batterin' ram of a Glabby's danglin' bits.  Tails there would at least be standin' wierd."<br/><br/>It's probably at this point she realizes that she's rambling, or maybe just wanting to hear a familiar voice so badly she's willing to talk off everyone's ear.<br/><br/>"Beggin' ye pardons though... who the bloody hells are the lot of ye?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>