Goneci, sack slung over their shoulder, silently struggling with the combined weight of tarp, sticks and cures, gives a wavering smile to the gentleman in front. Her eyes travel past him, inspecting the stalls afar as she speaks.
"Commerce, mostly. Commerce, camp. Business."
Her eyes snap to stall after stall, shop after shop, before finally locking onto the man in front. The pinned pupils dart down to their shoes, to their face, and lingering on everything in the middle.
"You. Man of business, yes?", she pants out; the weight of her sack finally getting the better of her. "You know this city well, yes?" I'd put good money up that you yourself is quite familiar with the bazaar behind."
She lifts her hand and points vaguely in the direction of the stalls and stores. Then, her hand falls down by her coin pouch - gravity doing most of the work - index and middle slipping inside as she asks "Tell me. Am I free to set up shop, or is there nonsensical hoops-and-hurdles the city wants me to jump through t'do so?"
Faded red eyes.
White hair with faint dyed-red streaks.
Stands at 6'0" like a muscular skeleton.
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