Lucasta was clearly unaffected by the words of the Orc, watching him stroll away to the bar. She only let out a soft grunt as her emotionless expression was turned onto onlookers. People watched her, stared at the thick spellbook in her hands. It was far from a common weapon these days, and many Mages did not rely on the pages of old to give them power. But using magic like this, with an archive, gave her a much vaster range of spells, and assured that each and every one was functioning and well. Never fluctuating. The woman turned and headed back to her seat then, leaning over to tuck her book back into the messenger bag. She stretched a bit, reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out the smaller money pouch, drawing coins from it. The Ghost Elf waved down a waitress as she took her seat.<br/><br/>"Y-yes?" The woman said, Lucasta's piercing cherry blossom hues meeting her own.<br/><br/>"Stew, whatever you have hot." She said softly. When the woman turned away, Lucasta shifted in the booth seat to place her back against the wall, her bag and flask at the small of her back, and her head resting against the wall. The woman pulled her knees up loosely, taking in a long breath and releasing it slowly, her eyes falling shut though her intense hearing listened out for trouble or nearby conversations.