when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives
She is the madame of the Halenani - what sort of business ought I to have with her? is what Finn wants to say. Luckily, the woman in question appears a moment later, and blue eyes light up at the sight of her. "That is very kind of you, ma'am." Ducking his head in a gentle nod, he allows himself to be guided through to wherever Maeve wishes to sit and take her tea. The hand on his back is a warm spot against his chilled skin, and the air smells like flowers and spices and liquor. In this way, it is similar to Mother Molly's. In other ways, it most certainly isn't.
Accepting the towel, he dabs at his face and neck, before ruffling the fabric through his wet hair, leaving it boyishly tousled. "Please don't think me rude if I remain standing - I'd not want to ruin the couch," he says, motioning to the rest of himself, still drenched. "My name is Thomas Garnier. I am recently arrived in Torchline, and looking for work. I hear the Halenani is the best establishment on the islands for the type of work I do."
Accepting the towel, he dabs at his face and neck, before ruffling the fabric through his wet hair, leaving it boyishly tousled. "Please don't think me rude if I remain standing - I'd not want to ruin the couch," he says, motioning to the rest of himself, still drenched. "My name is Thomas Garnier. I am recently arrived in Torchline, and looking for work. I hear the Halenani is the best establishment on the islands for the type of work I do."
Finn?
