Black Morass kill me if i snitch, cause if you snitch i'm gon' kill you

Trajan watches silently as the stranger makes eye contact with him, barks something like an invitation and continues to groom herself. He is not afraid of silence and understands her motives. She is, after all, covered in mud and it only makes sense to wish to clean it off. The Roman isn't going to help her, partly because he doesn't want mud on his tongue, but also because he finds it awkward to approach someone he doesn't know and groom them — grooming is intimate. He does not know her.
The stranger speaks, and Trajan detects immediately that the common tongue is not her language. He tilts his head curiously and licks his lips with lazy interest. "Yes," he replies simply, voice soft. "What language do you speak, originally?" he asks a moment later. What can he say? Trajan is a beast, a man crafted for war and soldiering, but he is also a creature of curiousity and he has never not done what he needs to do in order to sate his thirst for knowledge, even if it comes off as rude. He blames both his parents for that.
"I agree," a chuckle rises in his throat. "It is too dirty."