She makes a bit of a circuit through the market, checking everything out, carefully avoiding bumping into anyone, staying out of everyone's way. Then when she reaches his stand the long way 'round, she comes to a stop. "Hi," she greets him.

Maybe he'll be able to tell her more about this place.

The man begins to give her a jovial greeting, gesturing towards his wares, but pauses mid-word as he gets a better look at her. He pauses, taking a careful look at her clothing, especially the pants, which are made of a weave or material he's never seen before. "You're not from around here," he says slowly, looking around a bit furtively. No one else seems to be taking notice of the child in the strange clothing, yet. 

She shakes her head. "No. I'm not." She watches him closely, noting where he looks, what he seems to be concerned about.

"You don't need to lie to me, boy," he says. "I know you're not a Sham. Your eyes are human; that's the hardest detail for a Sham to get right, but if anyone notices you're in strange clothes they might start asking you questions that you're going to find difficult to answer." 

"Meant no like 'greement," she mutters. And then even quieter, she continues, "an' I'm not a boy, 'spite lookin' like one."

She huffs for a moment, then looks at him. "What's a Sham?"