Sealing away a bitter retort at Cassandra's jovial greeting, Assallya did her best to smile and achieved something akin to a lopsided grimace that looked almost alien on her lovely heart shaped face. Pursing her berry stained black lips against the pain she raised one hand with two fingers extended in a loose salute to the young lady magician standing five feet below in her silver white raiment. No, Assallya was definitely not looking forward to shimmying down the brass pole on the side of the vardo.

"I'm good," she replied, fingers curling towards the crooked shaft with the crumpled black raven's feathers. The courtesan suddenly found herself wondering how such a crude shaft could fly true. "Just a little bleeding out. Nothing serious."

Assallya almost chuckled. The rippling of her stomach was pure fire and robbed her of laughter and humour both. Instead all the managed was an anguished groan.

Quickly dispelling the image of the bulette, a rather easy feat considering she was scarcely concentrating upon it anyways, the courtesan looked over the column. Yes, decidedly more professional. More likely a duke or marquis' men rather than the borderlord baron that had sent men to escort the caravan. A shame that. It would have been amusing to see how hero and brigand alike react to the false threat. Still, she would not complain at being rescued, particularly if one of their number was a priest or cleric and willing to mend wounds.

When the archer offered his aid. Assallya was quite relieved and allowed her golden haired head to roll backwards to rest against a sack containing a cheese wheel. She really was hoping that he would climb up atop the vardo.

"Fortunate?" she said to herself.

"By every god of light," she answered him, "I would greatly appreciate your aid."