Louisa takes an automatic step back, tensing up. Well, the guy didn't sound hostile... or Nikidian, for that matter. She pushes the brim of her hat up slightly, peeking at Hans out of one eye while leaving her face mostly hidden. The sight of Hans lets her relax slightly; definitely not a soldier. She lets her hat fall back into place.
Instead of talking, she shrugs, letting a grunt communicate her ambivalence to the contact. While her Marsadan was pretty good, her accent would definitely give her away. She quickly pushes past the young man, her mind returning to the thought of bread. Then a thought occurs to her. Would it be worth it...? Her stomach argues yes. Her mind screams definitely not. Her stomach wins.
Louisa turns back to the stranger, clearing her throat to get his attention one more. "Food?" she asks, grimacing at her thick accent. Hopefully no more words would be necessary to get the point across.