Oh, Zira. Be glad it was tea, and not something actually important, like, say, not being able to find her warm pair of gloves. That was an explosion waiting for another day - some cold day in winter to come. "Russian caravan? I do not think I am familiar with that one..." She considered this for a moment, lips pursed, before giving a breezy shrug. "I suppose I can try a cup. Surely it must be better than these dregs they pass off as tea in the kitchens now. Do let me know when you are to take some, hm?" Herbal teas were useless - and yes, that included you too, klah.
She listened almost demurely to their comments regarding the fascinating dragon-beasts, tilting her head slightly to one side to peek out from under the brim of her hat. "Hmmph. Perhaps I will arrange a spot on the lower benches, then, if I can. I would just like to talk to one, truthfully, but every time I have tried, none will say a word to me!" She frowned delicately (trying to avoid causing wrinkles, after all), lips thinning in displeasure. "Very rude. I have heard they do not always speak to people not their rider, but they could at least say hello."
And then, a switch of topic. "Why is that?" she demanded, turning to Zira. "Diplomats and judges being lumped in with musicians. I have never heard such a thing before we came here." Her tone implied that it was a very outlandish and silly way of doing things. Time to test those diplomacy skills, Zira!
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