“Well, I’m sure they could try,” agreed Aillon on Artemia’s comment, “but for every city-dweller who would like to put the proverbial collar on you, I’m certain there are just as many free men who think likewise and so little changes, save for a legal writ.  I don’t suppose they’ll decide to institutionalise mass breeding compounds, where one has little choice over their partner?  Far better to choose one's mate freely and willingly.”<br/><br/>Watching as the nekko waitress pocketed the gold, he couldn’t help but be marked by a light-hearted grin at Cyrus’ chagrin.  “Give it time, gold usually works its charm when properly considered – and that girl has little time to consider it given that she’s being overworked and under...”<br/><br/>Aillon frowned at the mewling whining conversation from the other table.  Whilst it was not displeasing to his ears, it was a point of frustration at not being able to tell what was being said or how to decipher it.  Enough tales had been told considering magical divination, arcane or divine, as to keep from trying to.  It was an odd thing that... perhaps pointing to the affliction being magical in nature.