Had he been a whit less polite, Yasmeen wouldn't have stopped, but the polish of his manners caught her attention. One didn't speak so, nor sit with such grace even when relaxing, without special training, as Yasmeen had cause to know. The gai tsetsang exuded more predation in their grace, but it still seemed familiar.

Yasmeen herself moved like one of those steel flowers, though she'd escaped before the training had completed and her grace had more of a swagger to it. It matched the leathers and boots, the daggers strapped to her thigh, and the sapphire scarf tied around a headful of tiny braids. Gold glinted at her ears and around her wrists, and if one looked very closely, her fingernails seemed oddly curved and her teeth too sharp. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were a very pale and feline shade of green with narrow, vertical pupils. "Go ahead."