He might be surprised, and a part of her feels a little giddy at the thought of just how much she can let go with someone like him. He gestures at a building and she takes the lead, marching in with a determination that indicates to anyone around that she's not interested in anything but what she's doing.

Or who. It's an inn, as he figured, and she lifts a brow pointedly at the portly woman behind the long bar who hands over a key with a number on it. Key in hand, she reaches back and grabs one of his to drag him up the stairs. She didn't realize until after she closed her fingers around it that it was his left, not his right. Metal met her grip, but the fingers moved and maybe she found that a little fascinating. "You talk like those old movies. Gonna call me a dame, too?"