Freya turned around to look at the person that spoke. It was a man, seemingly her age. "I could ask you the same. If you should worry about me being a threat depends on your answer, I suppose." She asked, appearing rather calm, despite the situation they were in. Of course she was confused by all of this, but panicking was no use. She slowly slid a hand over her belt, soon coming to the realisation that something was missing. Her daggers. They were gone. Somebody must've taken them while she was asleep or unconscious, or whatever it had been.

She quietly thought of what had happened last day. She had assisted her husband with a job he had to take care of and everything went without too much trouble. At least no more trouble than usual, or so her husband had claimed. And she had no reason to doubt him. After all he was a mercenary, he knew more of the things he usually did than she did. Nothing strange could've happened during that job, except for maybe that needle somebody had clumsily stuck into her arm by accident a moment before they left the place again. Back then it had seemed like nothing special, but maybe there had been something strange in that needle.