[Aveline, meanwhile, smiles, pleasant, though her usual good humour prevails. Perhaps because of his assumption about her being here.] I certainly hope so. I would hate to think I have wasted a journey.

[Her accented is tinted with that of the Louisiana French but she is fluent in English none the less. She drops her hands to her sides, but holds nothing of her usual pretence when dressing up as the daughter of the late Philippe Olivier de Grandpré. It is part of who she is, yet only part, and there is no one strictly to impress.

The only reason she's come this way is it's the easiest way to travel without attracting too much attention. It also saves on the bill when you can charm the captain to sail you to Boston at a heavily deduced rate. No one will question her go to Boston on business. They would question one who dresses like an infamous Assassin of the city of New Orleans, perhaps.

There's no point playing games about her identity here, though. She isn't here for that; yes, business, but of another sort.] Connor spoke of you last we met. He said you were the one to tell him of me, during last winter.