The subtle smile that played across the old warrior's scarred face curved her jowls; it was a knowing, thinking expression, the sort that well accompanied the information Lady Genevieve seemed to provide at last. She did not tense throughout the conversation, but quickly set her mind to work on comprehending what all was said, and more so, what it all meant. Many of the terms, the history more than anything, were vaguely familiar - something the massive lioness woman would need reflect upon in meditation and time - but this was progress all the same. It helped some, nonetheless, that the half blooded knight could at least seem to confirm that the two women were former allies turned enemies which bolstered some confidence, however small.

Crossing her thick arms before her mithral breastplate, the right visibly moving with more difficulty, the mercenary found the offer far more than she expected, but it was not far fetched. Someone with such affluence and apparent wealth certainly had those sort of funds available, not lacking the capacity in the slightest, but the entire offer seemed to be a desperate effort of incentive. Fortunately, the man across the table provided the slight, knowing nod the Huntress so desired; at least some of this odd collective understood what her intentions were - not to sign their lives away so quickly. However, as the savageness of her eyes seemed to wash over Diagorides in acknowledgement, it then quickly shift away to the halfling, distracted only for a moment.

The small woman struck a wall, a dull thud resulting as she then spun about, speaking with vivid frustration, [i]"Isabeau is mine."[/i]

[i]"She will not live."[/i] Regina Hills continued, quivering with anger while the man soon returned to his business and so did Sakaala's attention to the conversation itself. There would be time coming to contend with that.

Taking a deep breath and her keen ears following the words while she moved, she allowed the discussion to carry on without her direct influence; each large pawed foot spreading silently across the floor. Walking about the edge of the fine wood table, arms relaxing from their place across her broad chest, she proved to guide herself near the young knight that was Emil Erran. Her presence was intentional, as though to spur the young man to words one could reason, but certainly not so close as to be a menace. She genuinely wondered if he would so much as react or simply be uncomfortable by the sheer scale and danger posed by a monstrous being so close.

Coming to a quiet halt, her thick neck proved to cock her head slightly at an angle, still in thought to none but herself.

[@AdamantiumWolf][@Belwicket][@IcePezz][@Zero Hex][@vietmyke][@Jon Y]