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‹ Having been on a crusade to find the 'right' horse, the auto is located with liquid pools and, without any further ado, fatale drew forth in her politest fashion, mentally damning herself for doing such a... accured thing as etiquette. Besides, these were horse people! Upon spotting the statistics of the newcoming equus, hardened optics soften although facials remain expresionless. Walking with confident ease towards the man, femme boldly speaks her mind-- which is a bad habit that sometimes is very hard to break in her case. Of course, there was nothing truely wrong with speaking the thoughts that poured into your minds like sugar unless it was... well, offending. Naturally this wasn't, she told herself dryly, a wry grin peeling back on facade as sharp intake of breath is emitted at the sight of the rather flashy Gypsy Vanner. It was a very rare breed, an honor to own one, the femma pointed out inwardly. With a cluck, palms smoothed over worn denims and thoughts are quietly spilled in throaty murmur, although it is still audible enough to be heard. How much for this majestic horse? I'm quite impressed by him, if I do say so myself cracking a a larger grin, she forced away all over her naive thoughts about dreaming of owning a rare breed and instead simply waited for the answer ›