A M A L I A
Amalia eases the staff into his hands, watching with rapt fascination as his fingers work across it, touching wood and finding secrets she herself does not know. She wishes she could touch a thing and know it, the way he seems to, though perhaps she is gifted in her own way. Still, bread-making is a far cry from the production of stars; Amalia is awed by the ability to create, as eager as a child to see what he will do.
She stands beside him and reaches out, placing her hand over his on the staff. Brow furrowed, she wrinkles her nose thoughtfully, looking over the length of it to garner where her hand best lands. "Maybe a quarter?" Amalia answers uncertainly, looking over the staff which stands a couple inches shorter than her. "I've always gone for small, lighter options. Not quite strong enough to use a quarterstaff very well." Ruefully she grins, laughter in her voice, nudging him gently with her elbow to demonstrate her weakness.
"What will you do with it?" Amalia asks, genuinely curious as she stands beside Remi, wondering what inventions he has built in his mind. It is strange, the fierce camaraderie she feels so easily toward the man, born perhaps from shared feline natures, or the ease of an anxious individual who finally has found someone who asks for nothing but her smile.
