She looked him over as openly as he did her, and her nose wrinkled in a slow sneer at the sight of what she saw - the other man had been a scavenger, and this one, it seemed, took stock in making himself pretty. His clothing was clean and mussed and entirely unsuitable for being worn in the battlefield they were about to float away from, and Atnorsa made no effort to hide her derision.<br/><br/>"Neither little, nor yours," she growled softly at him, eyes narrowing at the realization that if she understood his thickly accented words, it was likely he understood her own. Her pale gaze flicked past him, at the woman he'd just bound to the deck, and she jerked her arm shortly from his grasp, turning toward the doorway of the hold, and walking with as much stride and pride the clanking chains and manacles allowed.<em>Wait until the boat</em>the girl had cautioned... and yet it looked as if she had no further planning in mind but to crouch there like a dog at their captors' feet.