She's glad he thinks so, and smiles once in return, glaringly wide, every tooth briefly visible. Fuck, but he's up himself for somebody younger. Gela was– is the child of merchants, and she understands that same swagger. In another life she had it herself.

"Not so pleased," she corrects, "Because now I have to talk to somebody else, don't I."

It has been a long walk.

"What's the name you've got?" And what are the chances he'll just give it to her, she wonders, "I've been travellin' a ways now you see, and doin' plenty, so." She'd love to be on her way, before her legs go out from underneath.