Redhawk Caldera you're starting to look really weird, oh yeah

Dwin frowned slightly, when Peregrine started his elevator speech with words about his dad. She did not care, who his dad was, she had asked him to tell, who the hell he was and why should Brecheliant accept him here? In the back of her mind she did realize that even in her thoughts she was harsh on the fellow and that at this moment she was not living up to the second value of her pack that she had listed. Treating others with respect. 

Let it go, Dwin. She thought to herself, sitting down and trying to soften her expression. At least to a degree that the young fellow would feel a bit more comfortable, but not enough to become too confident of his easy acceptance in the ranks. "You do not look much like a mercenary," Dwin remarked, pointing out to his absence of scars. Though she had to admit that having her deceased uncle Bronco as a reference, whose skin had more scars than fur in some places of his body and had lost both ears (?) at some point, was maybe a bit too high. 

She had no confidence in the young man not running away screaming from danger, but they could use help in marking the borders. That was the part of mercenary trade that people did not glorify much about, but it was the job that needed to be done every day. "Yeah, but you can mark borders. The territory is big and more than one bladder is needed to keep the markings fresh. Do you know, how to do that?" she asked him and decided to clarify. "Pee sparingly and mark?" after all that was one area, where boys had to excel. And the way she asked was pretty serious - she was in no way mocking him. 

"Naturalist - how? A healer? A good knowledge of plants? A poisoner?" she urged him to tell more.