Her voice is soft as her approach. The hunter rolls around on his back so that he then flops onto his side and draws his head up to look her up and down.
Not met, but I've seen you plenty.Hungry eyes (as usual he just can't help that shit) look her up from top to bottom and back again to meet her emerald gaze. She was the slave, often her sent trail being mingled thickly with that of his half-brother. Yaalk'ali had been wise to stay clear.
What is your name?Slave wouldnt be quite nice, would it?

"speaking common" - "speaking lanzadoii"
