"Ah, a Dragonmaster. Until now I have yet to have seen one in life, much less battle. But trust me when I say this, 'Ser Daeron': This troll is mine." She eyed the mysterious man, squinting her eyes. She noted his dark, long hair and passed judgement upon him.
Adaline returned to stand near Daeron, but stayed a good 3 paces away. "I doubt you know anything of this troll. I, for one, have been tracking it all the way from the foothills. I know it's species, it's smell, it's patterns. Even his name is my knowledge. I'd be damned if you knew half those things."
Her expression softened, and before Daeron could reply, she interrupted. Not by talking to him, no. She began talking to nobody. In a voice as quiet as the wind she murmured to herself. "Yes, yes. It does seem to require great skill to fly a dragon. But why would one ride a dragon? They are naught but demons of death and eternal burning... Well, I was only following what Kimbem said: 'never trust anybody'. No, I did not think of that. Perhaps you are right. But I should at least, wait. No, no, you are right."
She turned to him and stood straight, dignity shining from her as brightly as her steel light-armor. "I cannot ignore that you have kept up with the troll to this point, and it must take at least a certain degree of skill to master those...salamanders from Adela." She took a deep breath. "You are right. Another sword would help should the tides turn, though I must point out that they most likely will not. Just, 'Sir', please contain that beast of yours. I do not know where it is nor do I want to. Mayhap we can kill this wretched thing and be on our way."
With that, her mood changed suddenly. She let a soft smile slip and reached out her hand. "Split the spoils 50/50?"