Khait's lips purse and she almost-- but not quite-- blushes.  If anything, the darkening in her ivory cheeks could be a wash of shadow.  "I... have no such noble deed to claim as my own..."  she prepares to explain the truth... that her stallion trampled the man accidentally, mistaking his rush from the door as an attack... but she holds her tongue then, her full, slightly pale lips curling very slightly into a delicate smile.  A little white lie won't hurt.  "It is only the honor of a... lady that dictates such."<br/><br/>She smiles very faintly... perhaps noting the presence of exceptional armor and weaponry (Rob?).  She watches Falia dress, something bold and hungry in her stare.  "Khait is my name.  And I am certain that, while I linger on this earth, I would not allow such a thing to transpire..." she murmurs smoothly, before turning her gaze purposefully back to Dalia with a warm, inviting smile.  Hard to think that this lithe, tall woman is anything but a killer.<br/><br/>"And Dalia, I am most grateful that you should ask."  Her gaze flicks briefly to the satchel.  "I am on an... I am errant, at the moment... I am to deliver this and ask--" she catches herself-- "require the services of a certain sage of the alchemical arts."<br/><br/>She lifts her eyes to both of them.  "Do either of you know one known as... Aman?"