“I am not a poet.”  She said rather rather bluntly,  one of her hands brushed a bit against the hidden breastplate beneath her tunic,  as work weathered hands clenched ever so slightly into a fist at the comment of her femininity. She took another deep breath, she could feel her chest brushing against the perfectly polished black garment, that helped to contain breasts and keep them from sight.  “And make no attempts at being one,  I’ll leave words to those who can craft them.”<br/><br/>She wasn’t particularly fond of the way the man’s caste mark was reacting to her clothing.  “Would you avert your eyes,  unlike some people I can’t afford buying new clothing.”  She said, wanting to hide both the armor beneath,  and the flesh beneath that.   She took a few steps away,  her feet leading her a bit closer to the door.<br/><br/>“Unless you want something, other then the exchange of pretty words…  I am going to take my leave…”