The orcish woman stops for a moment when you admit that the horse is not yours to sell, and you can almost see the disappointment in her eyes. But when you offer to talk to the horses owner, it is immediately replaced with pure, ecstatic glee.<br/><br/>"You... you mean it?! I... well... really!?" The woman's tusks shine in the flickering light of the brothel, a smile of pure joy and trust- with absolutely none of the cynicism so often connected to her profession. A welcome sight, to be sure. "I... well, I can't leave tomorrow. The Widow would have a fit! B-but... if... If you talk to the owner, and he agrees to sell, please send word back here. I'll make my way to you as soon as possible!"<br/><br/>Impulsively, the woman reaches out and clasps your hand in hers, shaking your hand with enough force that you feel yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet.<br/><br/>"I... I really appreciate it. Truly..."