[Hayame finds that she does not like the sound of his voice anymore than she had liked the look in his eyes. He presents the situation to her like some sort of testimonial, as if she needs to be told aloud that she is aware he is sitting on the damn lounge? She knows that, it's her demand- and a vein in her temple throbs. At least it's mostly hidden by the large leather patch she wears over where an eye had once been.]

I prefer the size of this one. It is more befitting my needs.

[Though she would have made the argument no matter what, because the actual condition of their surroundings meant nothing to her, she actually does have a fact or two on her side that make her seem not... completely irrational. The nearest places to sit are indeed somewhat smaller than the one he occupied, and most of them are already taken.]

I am sure a man as light [weak looking] as yourself could be comfortable on any seat.

[Her tail whisks irritably behind her in an inky line, always far too ready to anger or throw herself into a battle of wills when an opponent appeared that was not immediately cowed by her obvious strength or the sour look on a face that would be beautiful only if one liked the cold.]

I have not offered my name. I am your senior here.

[This wasn't the breeding stable, where she once might have bowed low and offered up her name to any man with two legs and coin brought by her master, obedient and eager to show how she could serve. She has guarded her name in misguided defense ever since, and of the many shardbearers who claimed Meridian called them... even now, she had introduced herself to very few.]