Rico tenses yet again as she senses footsteps on an intercept course, then sighs across her tankard when she sees it's only that outlander swordmaid who has some strange ideas of singing and dressing.
Pfft. So long's whatever's practical's practical, who gives a whit what they dress? Hrrghmm, shoulda whomped on those hecklers.
She glares at the demon-girl, first making eye contact to judge sincerity, then letting her gaze quickly scan musculature, stance, position of hands and clothing--- what little of it there is, for any telltale bulges of hidden weaponry besides the openly worn sword at her right hip. The brooding halforc raises her tankard for a sip, then gestures with it towards one of the empty seats at their table.
Rico flashes a momentary quirk of her lips at Red, a mere tenth of a smile and mayhap the minutest wink at her companion, or perhaps it was merely a suppressed yawn from all the booze... then looks back up to the demon-girl and grates, "Hrhmm. You. 'Msure sure she didn't mean 'ny 'arm nor take offense from ye. Ain't that right, Red? HRHMM. Sorreh, me friend's a bit too shy fer 'er own guut, but truss meh, she's deh sweetest sellsteel this side o' Starstone."
Rico frowns and sighs again, nodding to one of the tavern wenches for a fresh round for their new guest and signing with the bone clenched in her jaw for a fresh meal-set as well. "Setsuna, eh? Call me Off--- um, Rico. Well-met. 'S'ere's Red. 'Msure she'll get 'round to 'ospitality w'en she gets over 'er pressen' state o'... estupefaccion."
Gesturing with the bone, she stares at her relative lack of clothing stonily and anchors her forehead on her tankard's rim and says, "Yer not hidin' any weapons are ye? Arrrrrh, sorreh, fergiff meh, 'm off-duty, ain't got no right ta question such."