Sigrid stopped, hearing the sound of a chipper voice. Was it calling to her? She turned, and saw to her surprise saw a tangled mess of brown hair right before her face. Below that were a pair of shining eyes, both affixed to her. "Ves heil," Sigrid responded. Oops. She had let a bit of her accent come through. In her mind, she was panicking, trying to worm her way out of a rude encounter, and praying to Loki the trickster that the other girl suspects nothing. "Ay, It's the market for me. You?" By the instinct drilled into her through experience, one of Sigrid's hands wandered down to her belt, where her coinpouch hung. Best not let the other girl get too close. "I'm Sibley. From . . . " Come on, she has sailed the entire Thames by now! She must know a town far enough away that her false step could be mistaken for a local accent. " . . . Sweyn's Dun. What's your name?"