Ah. That subversiveness appeals to her far more than the upright, by the letter politeness of their dinner. Ysayle can feel the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, matching the change in him. It is easy to forget that she is young beneath the ice, dedication, and faith, but for a moment she looks more her age as he looks young. "That I find myself more suited to," she agrees, the corners of her eyes still holding mirth even after her smile has faded.

"I have no excessive experience with a blade, but no small familiarity with magic. To say nothing of that which dwells in my soul." Saint Shiva. She still doesn't know what, who, it is that she invited into her; perhaps she never will. "Ishgard must needs change -- a knight of ice and dragons is better suited to the battles we face than a lady."

Is that insulting? Possibly, but Ysayle remembers the nobles of Ishgard turning their nose up at her village when they'd come seeking someplace safe. She shan't keep her opinion to herself should they ask. Or perhaps even if they do not.