Yellow irises on black eyes look out at the inquisitor as the branded woman puts aside all sham of sleeping, her cloak hiding her hands as she met his cold blue eyes with those inhuman eyes of hers. Odds were her hands were on or close those bizarre weapons in their strange harnesses along her chest. She watched him carefully as she weighed what to say and do. Instinct told her this was the point where he 'showed' himself and silently 'warned' her off with his presence. She doubted he would be one who aided her prey, but his outlook might push him to interfere with her vengeance. Or if he was a bit more proactive, move against her for the sin of being made into the thing she was. Of course, she reminded herself wryly he would like her past career just as little.<br/><br/>Double plotting the moves of a righteous man made her hands itch.<br/><br/>"Mistress Tarn." She said quietly, with the air of a coiled spring as her eyes stayed on the inquisitor. He had hinted with his air of bearing that he was watching her. Her eyes said that she was watching him as she met his gaze. Too many men had assumed that she was evil in deed due to her form. She was used to it. She wouldn't be a victim for their righteousness though. The signet on her finger sparkled as she pointedly pulled her hand out of the cloak without her weapon, the tri-form blade symbols of Calistria.