[she got a muffin and a cup of black coffee for herself and perched on a chair across from him, picking it apart with her fingers.
This close and out of the rain, she was quite a sight to see. Without the elements to get in the way, it was obvious that she wasn't just disheveled from being outside. Her clothes had started out new, here, but even with everything being free she had learned to wear things until they were practically falling apart. There were signs of wear on her elbows and knees, and rubbed patches where she'd attempted to get the worst of the paint off her clothes.
Her nails were stained with oils, the mark of her trade, and there were no signs of makeup or jewelry, except for a single, thin chain that disappeared into her oversized sweater. She might have been a bag lady on the streets of any city...or else a street urchin, for all her apparent age. Just a gamine child, barely more than a waif.
But, despite her tattered appearance, further examination would show that she was clean. Very clean. The rain and damp left the scent of mild shampoo, soap, and the slightly astringent tang of turpentine. And, despite the crumbly nature of her snack, she didn't get crumbs on the table or herself. She ate quickly, but neatly, and folded the wrapper when she was done.
On the walk over, she'd been chatty. Maybe overly so. But now that they were settled inside, she seemed content to leave him to himself while he ate, letting him settle in rather than peppering him with questions. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. Polite. Removed. But not at all awkward.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-05-19 07:23 am (UTC)This close and out of the rain, she was quite a sight to see. Without the elements to get in the way, it was obvious that she wasn't just disheveled from being outside. Her clothes had started out new, here, but even with everything being free she had learned to wear things until they were practically falling apart. There were signs of wear on her elbows and knees, and rubbed patches where she'd attempted to get the worst of the paint off her clothes.
Her nails were stained with oils, the mark of her trade, and there were no signs of makeup or jewelry, except for a single, thin chain that disappeared into her oversized sweater. She might have been a bag lady on the streets of any city...or else a street urchin, for all her apparent age. Just a gamine child, barely more than a waif.
But, despite her tattered appearance, further examination would show that she was clean. Very clean. The rain and damp left the scent of mild shampoo, soap, and the slightly astringent tang of turpentine. And, despite the crumbly nature of her snack, she didn't get crumbs on the table or herself. She ate quickly, but neatly, and folded the wrapper when she was done.
On the walk over, she'd been chatty. Maybe overly so. But now that they were settled inside, she seemed content to leave him to himself while he ate, letting him settle in rather than peppering him with questions. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. Polite. Removed. But not at all awkward.]