"Yes, three people, which I suppose have never met each other before in their lives, as I met them all during different moments in my life. One of those three, however, is no longer alive." Freya answered Harol's question, sitting down as she pushed the thoughts from just a moments ago away. There were other things she could think about, important things rather than comparing two men to each other. What kind of use would that be, anyway? It wouldn't get her anywhere at all.

Hearing what Harol said next caused the rogue to cheer up a little, although she wasn't even sure why. Yes, she had been sad about the fact that they likely wouldn't see each other anymore, and hearing they would probably still get to see each other every now and then was nice, but still, she found it difficult to understand why she actually liked to be around the warlock so much. Normally spoken she hated people, and not just a few people or such. No, when she said that, she was actually talking about what had to be nearly everyone she had ever met in her life, excluding her supposed husband and now Harol. She even hated her own mother, for crying out loud! And her husband was different, he had been a very special, important person to her, unlike everyone else. But what on earth was so special about Harol, was something Freya failed to realize.

"Yes I suppose you are right, we might just run into each other while we are both here." She said, and soon after, the two girls opened the door, and when the older one of the two failed to remember Freya's name, she wasn't exactly surprised. After all, Freya did her best to hide her identity to make it harder to catch her, and apparently she was doing a good job at that. Either that, or she just wasn't known in this part of the country. "Freya. My name is Freya." The rogue said to the older woman, looking at her.