Rozalia's smile died down slightly; yeah, he was right, unfortunately. although it was pleasing to find that her fairly efficient pick-pocketing skills hadn't dwindled in any way; she was now in a locked room with a vampire; Gods only knew how old he was, and of course, for Vampires, age meant power.
"Why?" Rozalia was somewhat taken aback by his question. "For everyone else's reasons, of course. The Dragonborn is dead. What with the war, and now the dragons flying about unchecked... I thought I should do something to help. There's nothing back home for me anyways." She said with a somewhat uncomfortable shrug. She had been naught but a street urchin with dreams before the dragon menace. She had no interest in joining the army for the war - as she had mentioned, [i]way[/i] too many rules for her - but once the news of dragons spilled into Cyrodiil - not soon followed by the actual dragons themselves - she felt an almost unnatural urge to go to Skyrim. She felt certain she could make a difference. After all, it was either that, or die with no fame or loved ones to mourn for her. And then have her soul devoured by Alduin anyways.
"...Is that why you're here too?" She asked hesitantly, wondering what a Vampire had to fear from Alduin. Vincent wasn't going to die any time soon; so there were no fears of his soul getting gobbled up in the afterlife.