A M A L I A
Despite the cold Amalia has managed to build a sweat thanks to her work. So when a voice interrupts her it takes a moment for the Shield to turn and focus; she first has to run an arm over her forehead, pushing back sweat-soaked wisps of golden hair that have escaped her braid.
At first she does not recognize the figure; then she cannot recall the name. A red-haired woman she knows she spoke to in the bakery, but the Shield sees so many faces she struggles sometimes to put them where they belong. "I am," she answers with an anxious smile, choosing to skirt the issue for the moment. "He's spending the season in Torchline, and I thought... it might be nice to come home to a clean house." She flushes, a little bashful, and runs her hand over her neck.
