[ she looks up from her choice -- fingers still curled possessively around the leather-worked grip of a good axe. the claymore (she begrudgingly admits) is an impressive piece. more than half the size of her, but an impressive piece. good enough for him, if he even knows how to use it.

that question can come later. ]

Yawn. London's all tea'n'crumpets and I have it on good authority that New York is really just the world's dumpster for crumpled fliers. [ she notes the dodge but doesn't care. ] Or...whatever. Maybe they're worth looking into. It's not like I have a place to be any more. Back home, I mean. Not -- not like this Drabwurld counts.