There’s always a touch of concern, wondering whether or not someone will believe her when she talks about such things. She is aware of how it sounds, and for someone who might be from a world with less magic, less oddities it would probably sound ridiculous. So the fact that he believes her so readily is a relief.

Neither had she, but her mother had, and so had Vox Machina. (More than she’s even aware of.) “No, that seems to be something of a commonality, with planes in different worlds.” She tilts her head, looking at him thoughtfully. “I’ve done what I can to build something of an information network in town.” It had become a habit in the City and she’d done so almost without thinking after arriving here. To try and stay abreast of anything that might be going on. “If I hear about anything that you haven’t I’ll send it your way.”

While she has a tendency to fling herself into situations to tend to things that need tending to, she doesn’t need payment. She’s doing well enough for herself between working for the apothecary and her ability to play betting and bar games. So it’s absolutely no problem to send jobs his way. Jobs that might be more interesting than a cat in a tree.

But he’d said something interesting. A phrase she didn’t recognize. “Witcher?” She asks him softly. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name. Or is it a title?”