<div class="floatleft">(http://i1326.photobucket.com/albums/u649/wigglebiscuit/Lydia/HumeFemale_zps9b0dc3da.jpg)</div><em>"The way I do."</em><br/><br/>Lydia isn't fearless. She doesn't quash her fears. She<em>compartmentalizes</em>them; tucks them away in neat little drawers until she is ready to face them. Or forced to.<br/><br/>What she will soon be required to do with regard to Verde is one such fear. She is prostituting herself; there is no denying it. She is selling her body for the promise of help at some future point. She has no idea what Verde will ask her to do, but little doubt that she will do it. Hopefully the dwarven gentleman won't be so demanding.<br/><br/>There is no question that she will go to the dwarf. Whatever help the red flower women might have to offer, it cannot hope to compare to a mail-clad dwarf. She excuses herself from the handsome couple, with a deeper curtsy than before, and walks directly to the dwarf. Her mind is racing, trying to recall all she can about dwarven culture and social norms.<br/><br/>Failing any certain course, she tries for the direct approach. She walks up and extends a hand in greeting. "Good sir, I am Lydia of Faullen's Creek. I do not seek to take an easy exit from the Dungeon by way of some Counselor's vault, but intend to lead a band of like-minded Contestants straight to Marilith and to the Labyrinth of Cyril beyond. Can I count on your aid?"