Viola's subtle posturing welcomed him in, so the stranger hardly wasted any time stepping inside. The tent flaps fluttered off his shoulders with some difficulty, his broad frame catching them for quite some time as he straightened himself. His massive size was no illusion of light and costume now that she had a better look. The tent closed behind him, and it allowed Viola's eyes time to readjust quickly to the dark and finally make out some details of his face once he was no longer a shadowy silhouette peeking in from outside.<br/><br/>He was several shades darker than Viola, no uncommon feat due to her foreign origins, but even so there was some aristocratic lightness in his skin tone, as if he had lived most of his life without the harsh sun beating down on his face. That was obvious enough just gazing down at his clothing, from the sumptuous sheen of silk to the tight bulge around the middle of a well-fed figure. He seemed a man who wanted for nothing, and most importantly a man who could afford her absurd price.<br/><br/>But the way her slaver followed after him inside, bowing his head and wiping the sweat from his brow, might say otherwise. The slaver was whispering in the stranger's ear, leaning up onto his toes to just barely reach his shoulders. One might think he had some non-human in his lineage, though that would be strange for an aristocrat where Viola came from. More importantly he just folded his hands behind him and stared at the half-elf with narrow eyes, all while listening to the slaver who seemed to palm some coins and attempt to slip them into the stranger's hand surreptitiously. Rather than a customer, Viola and her slaver caught the attention of an agent of some sort.