The grin on his face told her that there was a common language here between them. Emyli wasn't a 'loose' girl for the sake of being loose. She did have standards, but she always enjoyed a good flirt now and then, even if it didn't lead anywhere. She wasn't sure exactly what he meant - she had never really cared to speak to weres before (that didn't mean she hadn't met a few here and there, just that she didn't remember them). So, she did the only thing she did best: flirtation. "That's alright, I wear my bruises proudly."
Her playful laughter continued as he told her what the other women were saying still. And at first, she thought he was just making it all up, but then it seemed to be a little too realistic. "Of course, if you're not just as bad as I am, then clearly I have seduced you into having a conversation with me." That was the price to pay when you just didn't care anymore. Vicious rumors, snide remarks, and a constant cloud of whispers followed you everywhere you went. "They're just being old crones. They're just surprised that I'm actually out and about in public rather than hiding in the shadows like a good harlot," she paused for just a moment. "Can you still hear what they're saying?"