She's polite, carrying around an energy that's not unlike many of his sisters'. Manners that came with being raised... just so. Dread should have felt the need to sit up straighter, but the day had been long already. He expected it to be longer yet. Times had changed for the young man.
"The Armada-- some of the best deals come at the very tail end of market season." The man's voice dropped, as if he was saying something confidential. It was more common sense, but he'd embrace the theatrics of it. In reality, it was more that the merchants weren't interested in hauling large goods back, and would be grateful for useful supplies on their return trips. "I'm Dread. Grateful for the company." Right, manners. Even if he was growing rougher around the edges, he'd been civilized enough once.
Bard
