Nyla watched with intent eyes as her opponent entered the room. A young girl who appeared to be in her early twenties now stood before their benefactor. As they exchanged pleasantries, Nyla observed Meeta, taking in any detail she could find. She was young yes, but not weak. The determination in her stride and posture said this was not her first pit fight. She had no obvious weaknesses, so Nyla would have to keep a sharp eye out, but perhaps she could hope for some inexperience. Nyla definitely had experience on her side, but experience didn't guarantee victory. She'd need to fight smart..and from the looks of Meeta, hard.
It was then Bhal clapped his hands—a summons. Nyla tried to hide her disgust. Fighting for coin often meant dealing with gluttonous lords and kings, but Nyla particularly disliked Bhal. She took a moment to assemble her features into a neutral mask. Time to meet her opponent face to face.
Nyla took a few confident strides forward, stopping a few feet from Meeta. Nyla was clad entirely in black, her twin blades strapped to her back, a dagger at her hip. Arrogance wasn't her game, but she couldn't hide her natural swagger. She faced the merchant-prince, now taking a deep (and messy) slug from a cup of wine, and gave a slight bow. She said nothing, waiting for Bhal to finish drinking and handle the introductions.