[oh man, chain mail. She knows that stuff would be too heavy for her to want to wear while backpacking through snow hell, but she's still jealous of how finely-made his looks. That bow is impressive, too.]

[she still feels uneasy about sharing too much info with a stranger, even one as elegant and apparently sincere as him, so she just says:]

It's pleasure to meet you, milord—um, although the circumstances are much less of one. Please, call me Freya.

[she glances behind her at the dimly-lit lobby, then back again.]

Not to be rude, but we shouldn't linger. ...Do you have a weapon on you?