Kijani gazed up at her host with an air of polite curiosity, her yellow-brown eyes taking him in all at once, and then in pieces. The scar along his jaw made her want to wince, what had caused that? Perhaps the same thing as the scar on his hand... She deduced that the war had likely caused the cane, because he couldn't have been a soldier with a limp for long. His clothing was plain, obviously well worn and rough. His shoes, of all things, made her pause. These were shined to a pleasant luster, better than some butlers she'd seen. There was something in the boots he wanted keeping.

Her eyes flicked back upward as he began to speak. He didn't sound happy to see her, and despite his words, she really did not feel welcome. There was a flatness to his voice, as if he was bored, or simply tired. His phrasing seemed rote, like an oft repeated saying, but she didn't recognize the words. His voice was odd- was it possible to have two accents? Once he was done greeting her, she let slowly spill the prepared story she'd concocted on the drive over.

“Thank you, Mr. Croil, for allowing me to stay.” She'd pulled up his name from her memory with some difficulty and was proud she'd remembered. “I promise I will not be a bother. This is your domicile, I will obey your customs.” She paused, one hand subconsciously going to the hair, to spin a dreadlock around her finger. “I wanted a place far removed from Verrun's city life- this seemed like exactly what I was looking for.” No need to mention her budget for travel had simply run out here. The rest of her money she was saving, but she did not know for what. “I must say, it's beautiful here.” A faint, true smile quirked her lips upward. “Somehow I've had the luck of choosing the best scenery in town. Were those apple trees outside?” The trees were looking heavy with fruit, and she wondered for a fleeting moment what they would taste like. “Apples are my favorite...” That was actually truth and not just polite conversation. Kijani had always found something pleasing in the snap and crunch of a well-ripened apple, and she'd had many a young night cozied in her bed, with a novel in one hand and an apple in the other, the sweet juice dripping down her chin.

She realized she didn't know what to say to him. “Is there anything... I should be aware of while I board here?”