"First off, you're the one who wants explanations like you think I owe you, so I am going to give them to you... You don't know anything. Period. You are far from humble, you're a bitter old shrew and your wrinkles are dragging your face down. Secondly, the gowns are required to work at a fancier establishment and it has to come out of my money. I also... you know... pay rent for my room... and, goodness, responsibilities. I am a courtesan, I wear ballgowns of the highest taste and dance with rich men and don't always have to fuck them. But it's still work. I work for all I have." Her guard came closer upon hearing the girl grumbling, and it turned out that he was well over six feet and armed to the teeth.

She continued, "You, on the other hand," she slipped into Italian, "Stronza, are old and washed up. I'm not taking away anything from you, you are simply too worried about what I am wearing and doing for you to pay attention to your own needs. I know just the thing for you. I could simply nudge your bony ass over so your face hits the horse shit pile over there... I hear manure is rich in nutrients, it might perk up an old piece of grass like you." She gave a hair flip.

"Lastly, I never knew my parents. My guardian was a man who saved me from death when I was a child. He thought my own mother is the one who tried to kill me, left me for dead. I grew up on cast offs and sleeping on the floor. After he died, I would have starved to death had it not been for the servants at the Diamond Pony. You know nothing of what I went through and what I am still going through, and you don't care. So stop asking unless you actually do care."