Redana is quiet. She lets Iskarot finish, then lets the silence stretch out as she stares into the swirling skies. Someone uncharitable might even wonder if she was even aware it was her turn to say something. But then, lo, she speaks! "How would a follower of the Saffron approach crabs in the lower decks, Master Hermetic? I'm listening."

And she pivots to face him, a surprisingly graceful motion involving using her rear end as a pivot point and her arm as a lever. The heel of her splinted foot makes a forty-five degree angle on the floor, almost perfect. And it's the almost, isn't it? Proof enough that she's not really some perfect champion sprung fully formed from Zeus's brow. She's just a young woman (recovering from a wound that should have rendered her disabled for the rest of her life) almost literally starry-eyed at the sight of the cosmos.

One that has been burned by a grueling educational program, but is still willing to be vulnerable to a Hermetic. If he has any wits, he'll treat her evenly and methodically, helping her to open the doors of a plan herself while sharing his insights; if he is too brusque or condescending, not adhering to the golden mean, she will withdraw slowly but surely.