She doesn’t believe him, but he tells her of how he is thinking of the king and princes - subtly defying his own attempt to refute her sidelong accusation. There was a sense in her that Solomon was quite a good brown-noser for the sake of convenience and she eyes him with even less pleasantness in her face despite knowing bitterness would look ill to whatever captor she was being traded off to. She wonders only sparingly on what he could be buying with her ownership, but he is not keen on letting her dwell too long on her own thought. He seems to respond to her doubt.

"You are a beautiful mare, Aine. And spunky… even I would be happy to have you in the Cove, but I think your purpose is here." She shudders as she looks out at it all, raising her eyebrow at him as if to say ‘this heap of rock?’

It is just then that the, apparent, intended recipient of her ‘fine self’ comes into view. He looks as though age has had it’s wicked way with him and her eyes blaze as they snap back to Solomon as if to accuse him of making up his ‘princes’ malarky. The foreign stallion might have been a handsome on in his hayday, but this is not his hayday by far any longer. She snaps her tail, lashing it to one hock in irritation, as his attention moves from the guest to the bargaining chip within range of proper snaking.

"My name is Warsaw de Devil's Retribution. What brings such a young beauty to my home?" She twists her ears in contradictory directions, looking for all the world like he was wasting his efforts of smooth-talking on her as finely as Solomon. "I am Aine of no one you’d know. Your geriatric friend is what brings me. I think he wants to ask you for something and thought I was an equal payment in exchange." She holds nothing back, lacking in the decorum even Solomon might have shown. She was born to the Crossing and knew little love for the horses who swam to and fro to make names for themselves. All she needed was a wild wind and enough earth to run till her heart burst or legs broke.

"I haven’t any idea where to run off to, so get your haggling done so I can be done with at least one of you." Her heat was clearly not inclining her to flirtation, her youth not adding any demure curiosity. Their names and titles would be lost on her just the same as their potential prowess. She was a young man’s filly to tame, so to speak, and she’d not be much use to them until they’d explained to her what office she’d serve-- and she’d learn the proper level of revolt they were due.