Morgaine stepped back in shock as Dietrich opened up the cane into its whip form, caught dumb as he whirled the loose blade around before returning it to his original state, and all with his left hand besides. Obviously, the man had notable expertise in the craft of beast hunting. The cane arced majestically, twirling like a dancer's soul. Morgaine knew one some primal level that the cane was meant for her. It looked so intuitive, now thinking about it. She could learn to pick up this whip thing. It certainly looked more manageable than the other objects on display. Was it even humanly possible for her to lift that huge hammer, or that sword the length of her entire body? Her hands idly played with the cloth uniform, smooth as silk but somehow incredibly heavy like hardened leather. Could a beast even pierce it with its claws? That was likely, she supposed. A beast's claws could rend armour like paper, after all. 

“As intriguing as spending the night with you sounds . . ." well, he was a charmer after all! Morgaine glanced up at his eyes, noting their constancy. He was an inscrutable man, no doubt about it. His eyes guarded his intentions dutifully. Did he even have a soul behind them? His main hand gripped his weapon tightly, as if the two were fused together into a single body. Maybe it was the case; he couldn't drop the weapon if he wanted to. That would make some activities . . . decidedly awkward. She bit her own tongue, wincing but not yelping. Hardly the time nor place.

"Immortal? Me?" Morgaine said with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't help bark a laugh at his last comment. "Well, I haven't died yet."