[ In many ways, the woman standing before him is very much at odds from the version he last encountered — more composed, more reticent to encroach on his space — but there are signs of change too, most notably in the state of her hair, worn down in a long tumble of raven waves combed to one side and settled over her shoulder. The mark at her throat is visible too, rather than hidden behind the high collar of a dress or a coat. There may be no forgetting their time at the fort but it's more than evident that those events have impacted her, even subconsciously. ]
It's very quiet. No one else comes here at this hour?
[ Which may be why he suggested it, she considers, silently following his instruction to serve herself as she steps across the room on quiet feet, no lack of elegance in her movements. She selects a brandy instead, pours herself a few fingers into a glass, lifts the contents to her nose to breathe in the familiar woodsy smell, the hints of warmth that will soon be spreading through her limbs with so much as a sip or two.
But, before she lifts the glass to her lips, she pivots back to him. ] What shall we drink to?
no subject
It's very quiet. No one else comes here at this hour?
[ Which may be why he suggested it, she considers, silently following his instruction to serve herself as she steps across the room on quiet feet, no lack of elegance in her movements. She selects a brandy instead, pours herself a few fingers into a glass, lifts the contents to her nose to breathe in the familiar woodsy smell, the hints of warmth that will soon be spreading through her limbs with so much as a sip or two.
But, before she lifts the glass to her lips, she pivots back to him. ] What shall we drink to?