At her words an obvious frown covered his face, but the side of his lip the scar ran over remained in it's usual scowl. "How hunt. How fight. Bad..." He rumbled faintly, trying to think of the correct word to use. "Juju?" He thought that might be correct, he'd heard a shaman say it once in a land he passed through. Apparently there dark coats like his were 'bad juju'.
She gave her name, and he made no response to giving his own; why bother? Something would, and should, come along and end her undoubtedly before they would meet again. "No." It was all he said, that frown still on his features. The situation before him...
