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She cringed at the reminder that she had to change, but did not immediately answer. There was no way around it, though - all of the entrances to the house were guarded, and even if she managed to distract them to get in, the clink of the armor would no doubt call attention. But the idea of changing near him was becoming less and less appealing by the moment. He clearly had no code of decency, no morals to stick to; he would do whatever he felt like, and that was that. Suppose at the moment she was changing, he decided he felt like having a heart-warming face-to-face conversation? She wouldn't put it past him. Of course, there was always brush that she could change behind, but that wasn't very secure at all. She briefly considered just saying to hell with it and changing in front of him anyway; it wasn't like she was ashamed of her body, and if anything she could tease him. However, she imagined he would enjoy that just a bit too much, and he might not agree that it was best to leave it at teasing.

Alegra debated over it for a solid minute or so before eventually concluding, "Yes, I'll have to change. I'll do it behind the horse." After all, he was tall enough (and she was short enough) that his body would cover all necessary parts, and he was long enough that if she heard him walking around, she would hopefully have time to throw something on. She didn't plan on taking very long to dress, anyway. Of course, he could always duck under the horse... if he wanted a ripe kick to the face, that was. She'd change her boots last, just in case. A smile broke out on her face as she realized it was like she was planning an attack maneuver. Who would've thought she'd ever end up in this position?

"I realized," she said dryly, but couldn't help but make an expression halfway between a grin and a smirk. That was the first time he'd corrected her to, in a manner, "defend" himself; ironic, really, that he should feel the need to correct only incorrectly positive allegations against himself. He clearly gets an ego boost out of being the bad guy. There wasn't anything she could do with the information, of course, but just knowing it was good enough for the moment.

Alegra watched him as he offered for her to mount first. She had a hard time believing he was actually being polite, but that didn't necessarily mean he had an ulterior motive; it was very possible, in fact, that he'd only let her get on first so that he could say that. Well, no matter, she decided. She didn't like the idea of him steering her horse, anyway. Setting her helmet on the saddle off the horn of it, she placed her hands on either side of the horse's back and hoisted herself up and over, moving the helmet to the crook of her elbow again and grabbing the reins before she quarter-turned back to look at him, her head tilting backwards slightly. "Coming?" she asked, arching a brow.

He was wretched, there was no other word for it, though she did not dare tell him that in fear that he would take it as a compliment. She stared at him for nearly a full minute after he claimed he would "escort" her back to her estate, considering. Her initial reaction was to vehemently tell him to sod off; however, considering that he was the one with all of the power here, she decided that was probably not a good idea. Never the less, she did not much fancy the idea of him knowing where she lived... But then, he could find out on his own, couldn't he? And perhaps he would have less reason to raid the place if she showed him willingly. That left only one problem: she could not very well traipse into her home in armor, she would have to get changed at some point along the way - and she most certainly did not trust him to be anywhere near her when she did. Not that she really another option. Perhaps she'd risk it and not change at all.

She fought the urge to repeat his words in a rather childish voice, biting down hard on her tongue to make sure that she didn't slip. Best not to give him something else to make fun of you for. Still, she could not help but add, "Yes, helpless women like myself are in great need of a noble knight like yourself to protect us." She walked back over to Iron, who was by now shuffling his hooves restlessly, and stroked his cheek. "I don't want him to ride you, either," she informed him sympathetically.

As the "man" spoke, Alegra continued to examine her, both to judge how good the disguise was (at least, in other peoples' eyes; she herself was biased) and to make sure that they could not sneak an attack of any sort. Her reflexes were sharp as the sword she dealt with, but it was best if she didn't have to rely on him. However, provoking her would also be an incredibly stupid idea. If she could avoid it, she did not want to fight, especially considering that this was the first time she'd come across a fellow female cross-dresser, and she could not help but be slightly fascinated with her.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at her intended sarcasm; the very notion was so ridiculous that it barely counted as sarcasm at all. Justice was justice, but Alegra didn't at all think she was worthy of having her hand removed. "Perhaps," she said dryly, continuing to keep her voice at a carefully calculated alto level, "she'll simply let you work for her as payment." It made sense to her, at least. She severely doubted that the baker would be purposefully cruel, and as far as Alegra knew, that punishment was only for thieves who were caught; wouldn't turning yourself in count as another matter entirely? She'd never stolen anything, so she couldn't know for sure, but it was the logical thing in her mind.

She refrained from commenting when he noted that it was a rhetorical question, but such a response answered her anyway, and she was relieved. If she had, in fact, given off that impression, she was certain he wouldn't made much more of a joke about it, and would have started it much earlier. However, the relief only lasted moments before she heard him laughing, a sound that she was rapidly growing to despise as it could only mean that he was going to say something to put her in even more of a wretched situation. And, as she had assumed, she was correct. Alegra couldn't help but think that it was far too late at night for things to be spiraling out of control like this.

"I do have a choice," she stated before she had even absorbed all of what he said. "I always have a choice." No matter what the situation was, no one in the world could take away her right to decide things for her own, nor would she ever let them. The rest of his comment, however, weakened her resolve; not that she let him see that. The whole thing was beginning to make her feel ill. Already, he had guessed her only real weakness. Of course she would do it for them; she would do anything for them. But he didn't have to know that. Without hesitation, she clearly repeated, "My body is not a price you can demand, family or no. You may choose something else or choose to report me, but I'm offering you impressive monetary compensation, and you would gain far less if you simply told on me."

Though it did not show in the slightest on her face, Alegra was fuming on the inside at her utter helplessness in such a situation. What a fool she'd been! She really needed to start listening to instinct, she decided; then she would not find herself in such unpleasant positions. When he went about asking her opinion again, she scowled. She honestly, truly didn't have any idea in the slightest; she didn't know how much a loaf of bread costed, much less how much a man could need to get by on for a week. She absentmindedly began to twist a lock of hair between two fingers as she considered, trying to recall any indication of any expense of living for her to base her approximation off of. Giving up after only a few seconds, she finally named a price much higher than any he was likely expecting, namely because she was fairly sure that it would cover - hopefully - whatever needs he had.

When he continued to speak of other things, she shook her head at him, allowing the hair to unravel itself only to begin twisting it again. Was there no way to dissuade this man?! Probably not. Well, if there was no way to get him to come off it, she was equally apt at teasing. "I'm afraid you'll have to be on your best behavior if you wish to receive extra treatment," she informed him. "I am, after all, a girl -" the emphasis was extremely slight, but there none the less, "- with standards."

"That's very true," she agreed, "and it's all the more reason for me to not dread it when it comes. That'll just make the experience less pleasant." Was she really so cold in regards to her own death? Surprisingly, yes. She valued her life, but she also knew that willpower alone couldn't keep her alive in an instance where it was no longer her choice. If she had the power to keep herself alive, she would do so, but if she didn't - which was far more likely - there would be no point in allowing herself to hope that she could. It was bes to just accept it and bide her time while she waited. She didn't actually spend a whole lot of time considering all of this, but when she did, she was very resolute in her thoughts.

The fact that he wanted to know how much she thought it was worth was slightly annoying to her. Her secret was worth everything; but, despite that, she would not be willing to pay 'everything' to keep it. Such was the way such a twisted world worked. "I suspect it's worth however much you plan on asking for it," she said dryly. "You know that I'll pay whatever price you ask for," monetary, at least, she added in her head, "and I don't have the slightest clue how much you're interested in. Regardless, I would either offer too much and let you get away with more than I could have, or offer too little and suffer further mockery from you." She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "What is it you're demanding?"

What would be an interesting death? That was a good question. Alegra wasn't entirely sure she knew, if only because part of what would make it so interesting would (hopefully) be that it was entirely unexpected. "I'm not entirely certain," she admitted. "Something unheard of. Perhaps being killed by an animal previously thought harmless. Or maybe just something ironic, like a sickness." There would seen nothing "ironic" about that to most people, considering how many people succumbed to it, but that was part of what would make it so for her. No one, especially her, could expect that a person like herself could be brought down by something so entirely normal.

As grateful as she was when he lowered the dagger and released her, she could not help but be suspicious. Was he really just going to leave it there? His following words gave her her answer: no, of course he wasn't. "I need you alive." Her expression immediately became wary, and she looked him over as if hoping to gain a hint as to what he had in mind simply from his face. When she found none, she sighed, rubbing her neck where the dagger had been and trying to make sure that there wasn't even a small cut. She didn't think her mother would believe that two rocks had somehow managed to find their way to her flesh. "Why do I get the feeling that before this is over, I'll wish you had simply killed me?" she wondered aloud. "What is it you need me for?"

"You caught me," she said sarcastically. "I'm secretly suicidal but too cowardly to end myself, so I traipse around in my knightly attire hoping that someone'll run me through with a sword one of these days." She couldn't help but be surprised by the intelligence behind the assumption. It was incorrect, of course, but even so, she herself had never realized that what she did could be looked at that way. Add in how calmly she was accepting the dagger held at her throat, and it was no wonder he would assume that. It fascinated her.

She made a face when he claimed that she was too passive, not that he could see. Odd as it was in a situation like this, but Alegra also found herself flattered by him referring to her as a knight. Most other men would tell her she was 'trying' to be a knight or that she was 'playing around'; even her brother used those terms. He was the first person (granted that he was also the only other person who knew) to know that she was female and still use the word to identify. "Passive," she repeated, thinking about it. She was rarely passive in anything, really, unless she was completely at another person's mercy; which she was. "If I begged and cried, would you let me go?" she inquired curiously. Of course, even if he said yes - which she extremely doubted he would - she didn't know if she would do it. Was she capable of begging, even to save her own life? It was unclear, even to her.