When she realizes that she's contacted some material with her bare skin ,Tha'ael-- immediately suspicious of any unknown substance-- drops the paper upon the bar's surface immediately where it falls, its corners fluttering gently in the air, to rest upon the planed wood.  She rubs her fingers gently together, testing for residue, as she stands with her back arched and bearing her weight on the balls of her feed like some cat struck at by an unseen serpent.  After a tense few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound, she vigorously rubs her fingers with the hem of her shirt, baring an inch of her midriff for the moment before her paranoia ebbs reluctantly away.<br/><br/>Gingerly, she takes the paper by its corners, studying what was spilled, or painted, upon the crude paper.  Holding it against the lantern's light, she tries to make out its pattern, and if she can still not identify it she will scratch it with the edge of a knife, hoping to identify it if there is anything to be gleaned from it.