The elven woman dips her head in a gesture more pronounced than a simple nod.  She meets the man's eyes, then studies his companion.  "Shiloh," she says softly, then glances over at her companions.  "Woem... ah, someone."  She shrugs apologetically at the big man, her angular eyes dancing with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.  "You're a long way from home, both of you."  Stepping back into her sandals, the willowy elf shrugs toward the street.  "We should talk elsewhere... if you do not object..?"  at this, she casts up her eyes to Woem, as if asking him permission.  It might strike him that, unlike so many elves, this one still carries the uncertainty of youth.