She is not as quick with pleasantries like, nice to meet you, but her features soften as though silently agreeing without actually agreeing. She is always pleased to meet someone new here, someone taken from where they were and might still prefer to be.

Good with a sword, he says? How good, really? That is, of course, a passing thought in her mind as she takes note of his features. The scar tells a silent tale of his exploits, things he might have seen in his short years; battles and war, perhaps, or was it simply one bad fight? She is curious, certainly.

"Is that a bad memory or a triumph?" With a nod to the scar. Sorry, Luke, she's bold with questions sometimes.