As of yet Sorcha has not recognized his disjointed wording for a mere lack of understanding for she is under the belief it is merely his half-shift that has caused him such obstruction to his sentences. Feline teeth, after all, are not the best fit in a human mouth. How fascinating that he can speak at all in such a half-state and she wonders if this is normal behavior for all the Were creatures. It would certainly account for the old tales of werewolves walking on two paws and looking like some monstrosity between a wolf and man. If there is something she loves more than her potions it is learning, especially facts that she can link to past facts. History, in a way, is as amusing to her as finding new ingredients for new potions. These animals were so different from anything she has encountered and while she should be wary of them, the longer she spends staring at Tobias she finds that she lets go of some of her reserves. He has shown her no aggression and it soothes her fear that she would be immediately booted from the cargo ship.

Riddles, he says, and she squints at him in confusion. Still, she shakes it off, assuming that he is thinking she is talking in riddles or some such nonsense. His grin, however, is met with a smile of her own, her eyes gleaming in shared amusement at some private joke that she doesn't even understand. She notes the sudden shift of attention, her own eyes sliding to the the were that seems reluctant to leave. Tobias has about him the air of a predator but more than that, the air of a high-ranking one, and his ill temper is met with a quickly retreating form. Well, while he had said that he and this Tetra owned this ship, she now knew that owning it also meant complete obedience.

Riddles wants to sell, she picks up, and her brows crease once more before a light of understanding dawns on her. SHE is Riddles. And Tobias is not speaking in such a manner because of his teeth but because he simply does not comprehend her smooth speech. Her lips part on a small exhalation of surprise, head tilting slightly as if seeing him for the first time. It seemed that Tobias was one of those she had heard about, a skin walker who lived the majority of his life in his animal skin. One whose mind was more primal than human. That he has not completely thrown a fit about her talk of tinctures and such is astonishing at this revelation and she now has to focus harder on trying to get her point across, but with such knowledge she sets her shoulders. She would convince him one way or another.

"Yes, yes, I do," she answers him with a firm nod, hand slipping back to her strap in a caress that is almost as revealing as her possessive one. Suddenly he is falling and leaping, agile in the way a cat is, and she grins suddenly at him. "Cats always land on their feet!" She chimes in at her random thought, not knowing if Tobias will even get that statement, but pleased at herself nonetheless. He is unkempt and wild but he is not as out of control as she had heard these creatures to be. Follow, he says, and she does, eyes widening as the were-people in front of them hasten out of the way without being told to. There is respect in their features and maybe even a little fear and she sticks close behind at Tobias's back, eyeing them all in blatant curiosity.

She pauses for a fraction of a second before sitting so that she can survey some of the Were's who were openly watching her back but starts when Tobias demands she sit down. A thump is all that is heard as her rump hits the chair and then she slides her pack in front of her, relaxing only as she notes him calming down. Tobias picks up the knives and forks and before she can utter a question he is throwing them across the room and she is gaping at him in concern, both for his temper and for those in the room. Sorcha laughs suddenly at his next words, unable to help herself as she grins broadly at him. "Well then," is all she can say, not certain what could possibly be said to that. Glad you didn't stab me? Glad you didn't impale someone? Glad you had the forethought to get rid of them before you were tempted? It wasn't like he didn't have huge ass claws to tear her up with if he needed.

A controlled look steals across her face and she nods firmly at him, laying her backpack on the table before them and carefully opening it to reveal vials and bottles that she slowly pulls out and sets before him, closer to her maybe than him in an attempt to prevent him from throwing them. She points to one that has a watery liquid that is a soft pink. "For speed... and running." Now to a gray, dishwater looking one. "For headaches. Umm pain here," she says, pressing a slender finger to her temple in case he needs clarification. "For strength," she says, pointing to a deep blue one. "More are for healing. Some for pain. Some for sickness." She lets him look now, watching over them like a mother would a child, hovering. "Can I sell?" She asks hopefully, peeking around to note eyes scanning her wares.