Dragons, like Weres, had a bad habit of posturing. It wasn't something most were particularly proud of, but like most things that were largely instinct hindsight and rationality were 20/20. Still. Jayati had spent a fair amount of time around a too-friendly woman who dragged her into tents filled with different species who set her hair on end and made her stay calm.
So she was a bit better than some, espeically considering her alignment. But the habit was there, a whisper in the back of her mind like an animal pacing about a cage. Jayati didn't let it show though, watching him with calm interest as he sat down in what she was sure was a deceptive slump. An illusion.
That sort of practice had never been up her alley, so to speak. Jayati was exactly as she presented, he would learn that in very short order.
A rough hand withdrew out of her pocket to unwrap the silk around the Feni. It wasn't an especially old drink, but it was one that was greatly enjoyed by her and others in the region of the world she was originally born in and wasn't sold outside of a certain province. Cashew apples was also a rather unique source of alcohol. Gifts for the long-lived and well-traveled had to be judged on...different rubrics than most.
When she spoke, in that old tongue that was usually only spoken in their scaled forms, it was calm and measured, even if their language lost some of it's grace and power spoken like this. "I, Jayati, come to you Rasmus on this evening to share with you a drink of my homeland," Or close to it at least, "And a gift of something that has been in my family for several centuries." It had, in fact, been acquired by her father through shady means, but that was not the point.
Her other hand unwrapped the watch, deftly clicking it open and presenting it to him. It was from the first few years pocketwatches were being created and wasn't the most complex one she had seen, but its providence gave it a great value. "For allowing safe entry into your home, and open listening to my proposal. No blood that is shed today need be yours or mine, I come in good faith, with weapons sheathed." For dragons, home had a much bigger and oft vaguer definition than it did for others.
The last bit had always sounded like a call to war to her. It need not be ours, but let's go after others. Or maybe she just looked for the brutal vein in words of peace.
The top of the bottle was twisted off with a gesture that had sporadically become too familiar since her wife had died, unfortunately. As well as the heft of the thing, the coldness of the class that seeped into her ever warm fingers. Jayati took a sip, savoring the burn of it even if it was partially for the show before she slid the bottle back to him and switched back to English, "I will be taking the Sheriff's position in town." During her little speech, she had called it a proposal but it was clearly more along the lines of a proclamation