Dragoncrest Cliffs i'm not crying. you're not crying, are you?

Verx teetered somewhere between happy to see her and wondering what she was doing here — that much was clear by his entire demeanor and his gruff tone of voice. Men were always so hot-headed, were they not? Of course he couldn’t just be happy to see her and then welcome her into her new home, no, he had a point to prove and a meaning to make known; though his bemused shake of the head belied his true feelings. 

Isleña allowed the wagging of her tail to slow but it did not stop — instead her tail hung low, making wide sweeps against the dusty ground beneath the redwoods, letting the hulking brute know that she understood her position in this particular interaction of theirs. Instead of the smile of joyous recognition, the banshee let a simpering smirk settle upon her sable features. Isleña crooked a eyebrow suggestively at him. 

“For me,” she said in her clearest of common tongue, trying to enunciate every syllable.  Then her eyes searched his, trying to gauge his reaction to this news. The woman didn’t exactly want to step on any toes, not when she found the fates had smiled upon her so.  Isleña repeated “Home for me,” and stepped a half-step closer, unable to resist a slight jest. He wouldn’t know what she was saying after all — never had — so why miss out on some of the fun? “Çox uca, dostum olmayın. Siz burada patronuz, amma yataq otağınızın başçısı oldum.” The words slid huskily off her tongue. Perhaps she was not being so sly, after all.