The dragonkin met widened, shocked, eyes of the soldier with an even gaze, the look in Ansgar's own eyes steady and unwavering. One drink wasn't anywhere remotely close enough to get him in a state unfitting to function or talk about his employment with the soldiers. Indeed, if it was as simple as the Captain making an offer, than it would be easy enough to work with. Raising his hand in farewell to the barkeep, sad as it was to leave so soon, he had been honest in the fact that he would need more work soon. The coin from his last job, some caravan work, had been running low enough to prompt him to start seeking new work. The fact it, for all intents and purposes, walked through the door and made itself available was rather, well, convenient. Following after them, he pretended to not hear her comments on a shady scale skin, as they went back and, well, back really. The drunken fellow was not readily responding much to the female soldier, apparently set rather intently on not vomiting most likely. And the man failed, stumbling into the grass to vomit while the woman said her first words directly at him.

	Ansgar knew when he was being judged, and he could see the subtle cues. Her stance, tone of voice, even the way she carried herself. Nobility, or at least the graces of it, it stank like an all too familiar pervasion that wormed its way about. Yet, unlike her, he reserved judgement for now. He knew next to nothing about this woman, who she was, why she fought, so on and so forth. Hasty judgements were dangerous, possibly more so, compared to delayed ones. [color=a36209]"Hardly your fault for a man drowning his sorrows. However, I have a simple rule in regards to jobs. I take someone's coin, I see it through, to the bitter end if need be. All folks like me have left are their word, and if they break that? Well, you can imagine how that song and dance goes. Hardly expect you to believe words alone, you don't look stupid enough to be the sort for that, but staying one's judgement might be prudent. Looks are deceiving, at the best of times. Even for a shady scale skin like me."[/color] The visage of a smirking dragonkin was rarely a pleasant one, but the fact she could be judging that quickly was entertaining. Sure, his gut instinct wanted him to judge her for her noble airs, as being little better than the ones that sat, getting fat on the spoils of progress and the toils of their underlings, enslaved and free alike. But he didn't, for a variety of reasons, most notably her caring manner towards the drunken one, unusual for one of classical noble standing.