With the hood of her cloak slipped back, the soft candlelight made the silken strands of Morgana's long and wavy black hair glimmer just faintly. Her eyes were dark beneath her long lashes, her gaze sharp as she watched the alchemist expertly shed the magic on his shop. She had long since been aware of the truths about Connor Wildling; knew in fact much more than he would perhaps like her to know. Those were secrets she had kept for a long time, though, and would continue to do so unless and until it suited her needs to do otherwise.
Others might have flinched at seeing the man's full appearance, but Morgana merely eyed him appraisingly, standing tall and commanding in place until she dismissed his appearance by turning her gaze to the shelves instead. It amused her, honestly, to see what he was really selling all those people, to know that they rarely got what they came for. She liked the thought of them being tricked, liked the image of these nasty little things hidden in plain sight until the alchemist's glamour. Part of why she rarely interfered in the man's work was because of this very amusement.
When she turned back to Connor, his mortal glamour was up again, and she offered him a thin smile before slipping her hand into a pocket of her cloak. "I have a list," she remarked, drawing out a slip of parchment and offering it up to him. Pinching the paper between two sharply pointed red nails, Morgana added, "Some of them might be harder than others, I do not expect you to have everything.