Naiobe raises one eyebrow, reaching out and taking a lock of Felicity's hair in her hand. She twines the lock in her hand slowly, wrapping it around her fingers until Felicity has no choice but to gaze upon the youthful face of the Baron's half-breed daughter. "It most certainly does<em>not</em>please me," Naiobe murmurs to the girl, as softly as she might to a comrade or a lover. "Finish cleaning up all of it, then take your pitcher and go. Don't even think of addressing me again unless you want to find yourself mounted by dogs tonight instead of men."<br/><br/>Whether she can follow through on such threats or not does not matter. What matters is that she can make Felicity believe it. Releasing her hair, Naiobe dismisses Felicity in manner as well as in words, turning her attention to her brother to her side. "Brom. My woman tells me that one of your stable was injured earlier. Have you found out what happened?"