Louis folded her arms and tilted her head back slightly, noting the size of the building a block or so off. It must be her destination.<br/>"'ey, much obliged for the directions," she said to her guide, a duck-themed monster with her lips stuck out in a permanent, upside-down pout. "I guess yourn city kind wouldn't know 'ow much such a thing would mean to a country rat like myself, yea? I told my sister, and she's a real freak, mind you, born with just three toes on one foot, grachius. I told 'er I'll bring 'er back one of them 'umans. Let 'er do whatever she wanted with the guy. She said t'pick her one with a nice, firm booty. Ha ha! She died, though. Gonna mess one up in 'er honor."<br/><br/>They reached the grand doorway. She tossed her messenger friend a small gem and bid her goodbye. "I'll write'ya sometime, yea? You're a good listener."<br/><br/>She patted her back, mentally checking her provisions: a bag of miscellany, a chain around her waist, and two axes crossed on her back. Yep. She was prepared. The wererat quietly strode into the assembly hall. The casually cheerful demeanor she had around the duckgirl dissolved, replaced by a neutral somberness. She stood before the wyvern and said no words, but diverted her gaze off to the floor beside her, avoided eye contact, and waited to be spoken to first, signs of submission and respect among seafaring monsters.