"No, not at all. It's fortunate that you'll be able to, like, use your background and skills here."

She sips from her glass to buy herself a moment, shrugging one shoulder. "I work at The Shrove's Wing, over in Gallmarch. It's a tea house. I wait tables." She's not exactly ashamed of it, necessarily--it's more that she's restless, these days, knowing she can do more, wanting to do more. "It's all right. The hours are decent and the money's good. I took the job right after I got here, so I could get money under me and get the hell out of that inn."

And yet half a year later, here she is, still making tea. Complacency, maybe. Being comfortable. Not wanting to change things once she was settled in. "Anyway. I volunteer with one of the city's political parties, the People's Independence Front, a few hours a week. Mostly leafletting and stuff. I might try to move into something that's, like, a better fit with my background; I wrote and edited things back home, I was working on maybe moving into reporting."