It's probably past time that they stopped lurking in an alleyway for no real reason, and she falls into step beside him without argument. She starts getting looks from other pedestrians as soon as they hit the public thoroughfare. Not because she's a Scythe, she quickly realizes -- her robe and ring wouldn't signify anything, here -- but because she looks weird. It makes her gut twist, knowing she just looks silly and not respectable, but she grits her teeth and keeps her chin up. Her robes might look desperately out of place, but at least they're heated.
"So it gives us an apartment, but no official welcome," she says, wavering between 'bewildered' and 'unimpressed.' How many people arrive here, panic, go to ground, and don't even figure out there's an apartment with their name on it? It's what she could imagine Rowan doing. Not the panicking, but fading into the shadows and trying to figure it all out on his own. It's a bad system.
Glancing over at him, she softens. "Not that I'd prefer some city official to you." There are so many things she could do -- touch his shoulder, reach for his hand -- and nothing stopping her but force of habit, and this new, roiling uncertainty regarding who they are to one another, and what a year might do to someone. So she keeps her hands to herself, even as she adds, "This is definitely better than that would have been."
She can blame her faint blush on the stares she’s getting.
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Date: 2019-04-01 08:48 pm (UTC)From:"So it gives us an apartment, but no official welcome," she says, wavering between 'bewildered' and 'unimpressed.' How many people arrive here, panic, go to ground, and don't even figure out there's an apartment with their name on it? It's what she could imagine Rowan doing. Not the panicking, but fading into the shadows and trying to figure it all out on his own. It's a bad system.
Glancing over at him, she softens. "Not that I'd prefer some city official to you." There are so many things she could do -- touch his shoulder, reach for his hand -- and nothing stopping her but force of habit, and this new, roiling uncertainty regarding who they are to one another, and what a year might do to someone. So she keeps her hands to herself, even as she adds, "This is definitely better than that would have been."
She can blame her faint blush on the stares she’s getting.