[ The Trader waits quietly while Julia puts her thoughts to words, her frustrations laid bare. He nods slowly in understanding and has no intent to tell her that her thoughts or feelings are wrong. ]

Mortals are imperfect, but so are we. I would even wager a guess that we weigh our faults more than we would of any follower.

[ He turns his hand over, extending a clawed hand out towards Julia. Instead of a coin, he offers a simple cookie. She might notice that a tea set has appeared on the ground beside him. ]

But that doesn't make you a failure, Wicka. Some of us bear a heavier burden with what mortals ask of us and want to see them succeed. Others want them to fail. What I am hearing...is that you care.