Scent of Home

He just keeps looking at her. Not staring, per se, but looking, his expression conveying some meaning the baker cannot parse. Is there something on her face? Unconsciously she reaches up to wipe her cheek, pushing a lock of hair back in the process, the blush still on her cheeks. Her lower lip  slips between her teeth, an anxious habit for uncomfortable situations. She is both bemused and fascinated, entirely unsure what to do with the strange interest from the strange man. Dark eyes narrow as he introduces himself as a scoundrel- why would anyone want to be known for that? "Were they in danger before?" she wonders, hand slipping almost protectively over the pendant on her chest. Has he come to rob her, is that what this is? The sigh of relief when he backs away is nearly loud enough to be audible. Dropping her hands back to the counter, Amalia regards the man as he speaks again, his interest in the bakery soothing some of her ruffled feathers. "It was my grandmother's," she says. No explanation: Amalia's grandmother had been well-loved, and her loss on Long Night is a well-known tale. any Natural would know the story, and as for Outlanders... well. She cannot help the smile at his praise, happy to be acknowledged, however offhandedly it may be. "Was there something I could help you with today, Adam?" amalia been talking to myself forever and how I wish I knew me better