Scent of Home

Perhaps leaving a self-declared thief unsupervised in her shop was not Amalia's wisest course, but Amalia had by now decided the man was far from any level of threat. Returning to the front of the store, she is pleasantly surprised to see that Adam has managed some semblance of table setting, even going so far as to add a table cloth. One eyebrow raises but the girl keeps mum, bemusedly watching the man at work. It is only when he settles that she clears her throat, emerging with her scarce bounty in hand. She cannot help the pleasure which colors her face as he compliments her food, as undeserved as the praise may be. Pursing her lips when he talks about bowls of piss, Amalia shakes her head. "I haven't eaten there since they re-opened," she muses thoughtfully before taking an altogether unladylike bite of bread and cheese. It pleases her to have her work be deemed superior, though she will never tell him that. But the happiness makes her features less harsh, eases the tension around her eyes, so that when he offers other payment she is relaxed enough to choke a laugh, her hand flying up to keep pieces of bread from flying across the table. Finally, some of Adam's flirting has gotten through: Amalia blushes a fiery red, equally taken aback by the suggestion and entertained by the comical way in which he made it. It's a joke, obviously- a strange and somewhat inappropriate one. So apt, coming from him. Swallowing her food, the girl tries to respond in kind. "I'm sure we can work something out." Woefully inept at this sort of game, her flirt sounds more skeptical than sensual, the high color in her cheeks betraying her desire to burst out laughing again. amalia been talking to myself forever and how I wish I knew me better