“Alais,” the middle Arryn said, finishing the woman she had run into’s sentence, “Lady Alais Arryn.”
She took a moment to look over the other woman – her dusky complexion betrayed some sort of southern blood, probably Dornish, as did her accent. Her clothes betrayed wealth, most likely, Alais thought, some sort of powerful vassal’s daughter or even Martell. Still, without more knowledge, she couldn’t rightly figure out how to react to this (presumed) lady she had stumbled upon. Instead, she took the easy way out: