Hushed Willows eyes on the road.

He invites her nearer, and she takes the offer with a few graceful strides of long, red legs. Muscles ripple beneath the shortly cropped fur along her shoulders, and she shoots him a sarcastic look at his question. Was it even valuable even to answer? 

"I am a mercenary," she says to him with a flick of her ears. "I will be a mercenary till the day I die." A bitterness arose in her mouth at the thought of a second skill, but only the slight purse of her lips would give anyway any emotion. She moves away from it mentally. "And I have a way with people," she adds, pale gaze sweeping his way for a few heartbeats.