As Whispers' pose brought attention to her state of dress, the scoutmistress took on the face of someone who had just heard a very poor or distasteful joke. After a faint sigh of annoyance, it was back to business. "Interesting name. Your mother must have been a poet. Tell me, Whispers on the Night Wind, what boat clan do you hail from?" There was curiosity in the aging commander's voice and expression, but also something else. Suspicion.