Thin fingers slowly undid the lid of the carafe, and in the lid she poured some of the tea, extending it toward this Crow as he began to speak to her. Spiced sweet chai, tepid but perfect on a hot evening. She studied him closely, a ferocity in her gaze but no ill will. His accent brought a quirk of a smile to the corner of her lips, and his forthright introduction made her speak with a laughing, airy response.
"Crow? I do not know you, Crow, and you are very far from where you may have once called home," she poured herself some spiced tea as well, took a sip. "But it's all good. Perhaps they could tell you." She pointed playfully up at the bluff, where the gulls stared down suspiciously. Shifting her weight, a step closer, and she peered up at him with dark eyes made warm by the dying sun. "And for you?"