She turned to him, looked him over critically, and realized that perhaps he wasn't a Dynast; he certainly didn't<em>look</em>the part of it.  Too poor-looking, or perhaps a Lost Egg or whatever they called it.  After all, he had a lovely white Wavecleaver, so he had something to his name at least.  She never underestimated even the most misshapen of Dynastic Dragonbloods; even the most misshapen bureaucrat could wield a Daiklave with lethal efficiency, after all...<br/><br/>She'd hold off on deliberately pissing him off... for now.<br/><br/>"<em>Finally</em>someone who speaks something worth speaking!  I'm trying to ask the merchant what animal that pelt is from before I'd<em>consider</em>purchasing it." she said, still with crossed arms as she stood over the man by a fair margin "You don't happen to speak his language do you?"