[This is probably what they call "meeting cute", which is somewhat of a novel experience; usually when Brian bumps into someone by happenstance it's very much intentional, carefully orchestrated before the fact to ensure he gets the desired results. He listens to her with apparent concern, up to and including the gigglefit, and makes no move to interject. Sometimes it's easier to let people babble themselves out before responding, particularly if the chatter is born from anxiety!
Which this woman's almost certainly is; even without his peripheral awareness of her sudden vasodilation, it would be obvious. It's not hard to divine what's probably going on behind all that fluster, and he marks it down on his mental ledger with the customary dispassion, ignoring the background noise. This too is a constant presence, a hissing in the back of his mind that reminds him ever more urgently of exactly how long it's been since the last one, and at the moment it's helpfully pointing out how easy it might be, getting her to go off with him -- but this is really not the time.
Especially not after what comes out of her mouth next. He's opening his own to say something generic and reassuringly irreverent, and it hangs open for a moment before he catches himself. This too is a deliberate move, but when you're so good at it who's keeping track, really?]
That's, ah -- yes. Yes it is. [He hovers somewhere between sheepish and apprehensive, which only makes sense; after all, he has no idea if she's an Import or not, and as a newbie he should be uncertain about how native civilians might react. His hand, though still outstretched, fumbles back ever so slightly.] So that... [SHRUGGAN] ... probably depends on how you define okay. Trust me, I've had worse.
[HOLD ON A SECOND THERE]
Wait -- how'd you know what it's called? Are you...?
no subject
Which this woman's almost certainly is; even without his peripheral awareness of her sudden vasodilation, it would be obvious. It's not hard to divine what's probably going on behind all that fluster, and he marks it down on his mental ledger with the customary dispassion, ignoring the background noise. This too is a constant presence, a hissing in the back of his mind that reminds him ever more urgently of exactly how long it's been since the last one, and at the moment it's helpfully pointing out how easy it might be, getting her to go off with him -- but this is really not the time.
Especially not after what comes out of her mouth next. He's opening his own to say something generic and reassuringly irreverent, and it hangs open for a moment before he catches himself. This too is a deliberate move, but when you're so good at it who's keeping track, really?]
That's, ah -- yes. Yes it is. [He hovers somewhere between sheepish and apprehensive, which only makes sense; after all, he has no idea if she's an Import or not, and as a newbie he should be uncertain about how native civilians might react. His hand, though still outstretched, fumbles back ever so slightly.] So that... [SHRUGGAN] ... probably depends on how you define okay. Trust me, I've had worse.
[HOLD ON A SECOND THERE]
Wait -- how'd you know what it's called? Are you...?