"Furiosa," she corrects mildly. "They call me Furiosa." She moves closer again, at a slight angle as if to get a better look at his accoutrements.

Clean, she notices. As clean as anyone else here. Fabric as sturdy and in as good condition as she's ever seen. The staff and gem are unusual, nothing she can identify as a weapon, and yet he clearly doesn't need it to prop himself up, so she has to assume there's some defensive use to the thing.

"I'm picturing what a bolt of flame could do to the vehicles of my enemies," she admits quietly. Gastown is always on her mind. "We use incendiary lances, but the reach is minimal. And guns, but we don't have infinite ammunition."

Shrug. "And the shaping of rock. We're surrounded by sand. Walls, banks, even a pit trap in the right place would be an asset. The question is what you value, whether I have it, and whether it's worth it to me to trade."