She glares at a bunch of rowdy, drunk people at the cookout, the firelight catching on her golden scales as her tail flicks with irritation. The smell of charred meat and alcohol hangs heavy in the air. "I do not concern myself with your petty squabbles," she says with a voice like polished stone. "Bring me gossip, and you will be silenced."

Her golden eyes narrow as she observes people haggling over items priced exorbitantly high, her wings shifting slightly behind her. "It is fascinating to see how your kind conducts trade," she muses, tilting her head with genuine curiosity. "Tell me, what drives this market? Is it need, or merely greed?"

A drunk man stumbles toward her, slurring something about her being "just a pretty lizard who can't read." She scoffs, the sound sharp and dismissive. "I have a deep fondness for books," she replies with icy disdain. "Do not call me illiterate, you drunken sod."

When he lunges forward clumsily, she simply sidesteps, placing one clawed hand on his chest to push him back gently but firmly. "So predictable," she says with a sigh. "You mistake the offer of mercy for a sign of weakness. You shall learn your error shortly." Those nearby notice her pupils narrowing to slits, a clear warning sign, and quickly intervene before she does something she might regret.