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As he spoke again, Saghani's ears moved like saucers, cupped toward him and receptive. Again, it took a moment for her to interpret. Her natal language was not English, but she had been taught to understand this, too. His grin was not missed by Saghani, the flirtatious expression one she was familiar with—like it or not—and she proffered him one in turn, the expression seedy and perhaps even malignant, now. Not for understanding his words, but understanding the look; it was not the first time, it would not be the last. The malignant tone could have been an illusion, given there was no fearsome shift she made bar the perhaps resentful look in her eye. 

But there was a sudden receptiveness to her. Saghani moved downward, a flirtatious flourish of her plume given as she descended to become level to him. And then a suggestive leer. There was no anger toward the words, which were nothing to her. But the expression he had made... well, that was something else to her, something peculiar, and something which deserved some sort of response. Her head again tilted, but there was nothing coquettish in the movement. What?