What in tha quiver-wriggles of Dheathain’s tangles be going on today? Mayhap I hit me own bloody noggin on tha way here. None of it be making any sense. On one side I’ve got a Haidian demon showing me chivalry and on tha other a knight in shining armour giving me tone. Surely me eyes be cross-eyed and their voices have swapped bodies momentarily.

Yvonne rubbed her forehead in thought, feeling the onset of a headache coming on. She stood there trying to process everything, trying to decide whether her initial reactions had been warranted or whether she needed to change her tune in a hurry. Indecision slowed her down and the baffling confusion, it captured her in its entangling web from which escape would be unlikely. There must be some other explanation that these two weren’t giving her.

The discontented hybrid eyed the gift Nosdyn presented her with, a cloak which would doubtlessly be far too big for her small stature. While not physically practiced in the arts of war, mentally she was aware of all kinds of devious tricks one would only play on their worst enemies. The term cloak and dagger could be utilized quite literally. A stranger could wrap a warm cloak around their victim, creating the illusion of benevolence. The victim would quickly find themselves held in place however, as though trapped in a net - the dagger would be revealed and buried between ribs.

“Yer far too kind sir. Put tha cloak away. I could fold it in half and it’d still be too big for little me,” she advised, breaking the ice moderately with a giggle and a smile. She still didn’t trust the demon, but the gesture had done some work on her, certainly.

Tristain’s words lingered in her mind. He had dismissed her and turned away, as she had done to him, but not without leaving her with plenty to ponder. Best not to judge the demon based on his appearances, he had said. Well, that’s why she had attempted to get to know the demon in the first place, and she would have done so in her own time, but he had rudely butted in while she felt vulnerable. His original suggestion to take up the offer of a free meal sounded awfully like do as he says to her ears, and that flared her defensive instincts.

Yvonne didn’t bother to respond to the cold-shouldering rust bucket. He wasn’t speaking to her anymore anyway. She spoke to Nosdyn. His amber eyes were still upon her.

“Yer chivalry be appreciated, truly. Ye lads go on ahead and get yer selves some grub. I’ve got a few things left ta wrap up before tha market closes, and then I’ll be along. Go, go. Show tinhead where tha food be before tha rain washes tha oil from his creaky joints,” Yvonne wisecracked, smirking.