Unknowing of, and if he was quite honest, not giving a damn about Irene's facial expression, Yven gently took her hand and nodded, a small grin on his face: "Me neither, at least according to my sister, but we'll manage!", he joked.
If anyone expected any less then a gentleman quite a bit out of his league with this dance, they were sorely mistaken, for Yven kept the appropriate distance between them and gently led her through the song, not with any daring excercises that Cel and Chris showed off, but gently and solidly, smiling as he did so, and looking into her eyes. He was making it easy for a beginner, although one could easily see, that he was more then a beginner himself.
He was silent as she blushed.
The dance came to a finish, which he replied to with a smile for Marie, taking a step back and softly lifting her hand up, to his lips, gently placing his lips on the back of her hand, as proper manners dictated. Kissing one dance partner's hand, maybe even cheek after the dance, was a long established cultural tradition - for a moment, any observer might not see a lad in t-shirt and a girl in a dress, but a ballroom of a castle, smoking and evening dress.
With this done, Yven released her, bowed his head lightly and offered his arm to link with his, back straight, leading her back to the ones, who had remained seated, Marie accepting the offer and blushing red-hot scarlet, which caused Karl to guffaw.
Unpertubed, Yven was still the gentleman to the lady, that was Marie in his eyes.
Filleadh House.
While Yven introduced Marie to one of the more fun-parts of being a girl, I was having my fun with Chris.
Get your minds out of the gutter!
The physical closeness was ideal for the two of us and the slowness of the dance allowed me to concentrate on what was really important: Not the dance, not Chris, not even to resist the urge to show off kangaroo jumping, but the memories. Our first evening in Dumhach, the dinner and all that had come along with it.
Felicia, that little bitch.
The Khana and my boss doing the exact right thing.
The cuteness of Little Marla and Chris dancing - at the mere memory, I nearly died of sugar shock! Especially her fire-hydrant-red face as Chris did something very similar to what Yven was doing with Marie, softly kissing her. Granted, Chris had taken her cheek and not the back of her hand, but the thought and tradition was the same.
When the song ended and Chris complimented our combined skills, I grinned: "Of course! Why shouldn't it?"
Then I went up and pecked him onto his lips.
Uachtair Inn.
The girl shighed and fixed the first bag again, checked the second, then petted her colt's side and took his reins.
One should have expected her to mount her little pinto, but instead, she led him off, past the window Hilda and Frederik were looking out of. She noted Hilda's interested look, waving at her with a wide grin, her ears twitching with excitement, then she was gone.
"That was Cao.", the Mini-Waitress commented with a smile, "She's a regular."
She carefully placed the tray onto the table and slightly pushed it towards the middle before she distributed flatware, placed out the basket filled with warm breadrolls and placed the little bowls with jelly next to the basket, then added the tea to the cups, carefully.
"Here we go.", she said, as she placed the can down, bowed her head lightly, grinning widely, "Have a good appetite, Ma'am, Sir!"
Camelone wrote:"Hm. Did you receive a call from a Prince Edmund O'Devlin by any chance to reserve a room for Bedivere Callaghan? He just told me about this place but there may be a possibility that he reserved a room for myself. He's a good lad but a little on the unreliable side with his head in the clouds at almost all times." Bedivere inquired as from his conversation with Edmund he didn't make it sound like he reserved a room for him but just recommended the place for him, though he could very well have done so as there was no telling with that guy.
"I'm afraid not, lad.", the receptionist said, looking through his Book of Reservations once more, just to be sure. "Neither a Prince, nor a Mister Callaghan. I assume, that's you?" Without waiting for a reply, he closed the book. "Sorry, lad."
He sympathised with the boy, who was very polite, not something every customer could claim, but where there was no space...
"Should I call someone for you? A friend or acquaintance you might have in town?", he asked and motioned to the phone he had on his desk.
Amy and Belana went away, glad their well-wishes had been well-received, including Belana's bear hug, and went back to the work they had to do...
...which, as they noted with sadness, did not include the little bakery at the entrance of the Main Square setting up a bit of a sales area outside, the breadrolls fresh from the over, the little grill already grilling sausages, the door to the shop itself open, as was the shop itself.
If the breadrolls were this delicious as well, what did that say about the pastries and baked goods inside?
Ayden grinned at her approval, then led her backstage, where he quickly approached a crate.
There, he nodded to a guard (in full armour of a Selkie-Horseman, no less, but far more friendly-looking then the lance, the sword and the quiver with bow case led to believe) standing there and looking intimidating. With the nod, she was cleared to enter with him as well.
At the crate, he reached in and took out three baseball caps, one in kid's size, two in adult size. They were dark blue, a woderful contrast to her hair, with the stitching on the front reading, in Selkie-Runes, '2018 Shella Harvest Festival'. Quite a few of the technicians running around backstage wore those.
"If you are going to be on stage with Waari later, you might as well look the part.", he said and placed one of the caps on her head, "Fits you well... how does it feel?"
