[If she considered that a potty mouth, someone clearly hadn't been in the depths of a camp full of men when the ale flowed freely and there was nary a woman around to hear what might trip, fall, and pour like a rancid, verbal river from the mouths of hardened soldiers. Of course, if women were around at all, those words might not flow so freely, since most men knew better than to sour their chances straight off the board towards having a warm body to curl up with.

Then again, looking sideways at the body riding the horse who'd bumped into his, Madmartigan had a feeling this one hadn't seen many pits or camps. To bright and shiny, this one. Clean, too. Not like the bodies he'd tumbled into bed with. He could practically smell the floral scent from here. Damn tempting, is what it was.

Still, once realizing who he'd spoken to, and that she'd taken offense, he straightened in the saddle, shooting her a sideways grin as he watched her try to settle what was clearly a barely broken stud.]

Sleep's the only thing that would have kept me from noticing you arriving. Course, if you want to cast blame, we could start with whoever gave you that thing to ride. Lady deserves a proper horse.

[Not to mention the safety issue. Whoever was daft enough to give a green horse to a rider who wasn't suited to it should be run through. It'd be a waste of time, resources, and potentially lives if it skittered off with her on it, or threw her out of a sense of panic.]