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caiaphas had wearily expected begging -- food -- anything -- and unfortunately, had already fully devised a way in which to whisk whittier away. with a sigh she composed her response, though she was left somewhat slackjawed by his retorted height in posture. like a little flame doused with gasoline the salt-witch flared, temper rousing and hackles along her spine lifted in sharp ridges. the nerve -- how dare! she cut him a steely look and was about to sink her teeth into his flesh when kjalarr approached, his expression that of joy. suspiciously she stowed her teeth, noting the recognition that seemed to flood both. her posture remained begrudgingly dominant and she scowled at the stranger, her voice somewhat husky. "you know him?"