Hmm... that accent, someone from the Drowned Isles? He had gotten himself off course. Of course he didn't dwell on it too long. What she was saying was far more important then how she sounded. And too his credit his mind only dipped into the gutter very momentarily before his stomach and dry throat reminded that there were other more important things one could do at an inn.

"I'd be in your debt if you could," he breathed a sigh of relief, "You must be my guardian angel."

Maybe he was exaggerating a bit but she certainly was a sight for sore eyes at least. Familiar even, not as in someone he knew, but in general. She looked like the girls he always saw at summer parties in the royal palace of his homeland The Red March. He'd been away for so long.