*quickly sizes you up and decides she doesn't like what she sees one bit* I'm Finduilas. He's mentioned me, right? *with an air of aloof curiosity* Have you been...camping out here long? If you don't mind my asking or even if you do?
*glances down at herself and realizes what she must look like*
*awkwardly* N-no, not long. I just -- I don't know, really. *puts a hand in her hair* *decides to go for the simple route* I've only been here a few days from what I know.
Nienor, have you seen my razor? Um, not that I'm implying spurious motives or that you should necessarily know where I keep stuff because why would you necessarily know those things? Necessarily?
*finally noticing their visitor* Oh. Hi, Fin. *smiles*
I was going to, okay? I've just been really busy, what with these plans and protocols and everything else I've been working on... *gestures to a table littered with papers*
*tightly* Look, just...don't say anything, okay? Anything specific, I mean. She's confused as hell but I have no idea what's going to set her off. I'm completely playing this by ear.
You tell me. *worriedly* I don't know...I thought you and I could go out somewhere, or... *simply* The last time you were out, you got lost. It was pure luck that I found you.
*reluctantly finds a pad of paper and a pen and scribbles something on the top sheet*
*hands you his cell phone* *in a tone that suggests he'll brook no argument* If you get separated, you call me. *tears the piece of paper off the pad and gives it to you* This is the number here.
*holds up her own cell phone* *dryly* I can press the buttons and everything.
*reciting* And we won't stay out past midnight and we won't get into any trouble and we won't pick up many strange men. *sticks out her tongue at you* Okay?
*leads the way* *wonders what they're playing at over at the MHC if this is what passes for crazy*
*sincerely* It's my pleasure. I never turn down an excuse to shop. *smiles brightly at you* And don't worry about it...I gathered as much from the playing-house vibe back there.
So what's your style, Nienor? Classic? Trendy? Hipster? Romantic? Goth? Ha...just kidding. Va-va-voom?
St-style? I don't know that I have a style. I mean, I'm sure I must have had one at some point, but I really can't tell from the one outfit clothes I have.
*thinks for a minute, looking at the people they pass and judging their clothes* I guess I like bright colors. No black. *sees someone walk by in a garish lime green top* *laughs* Not that bright, though.
Okay, I guess? This is the first time Túrin's let me out of the house since he found me. I was starting to wonder if I'd ever get out. He's so... *pauses* He's such a worrier, I guess. It's sort of funny, too, because I have no idea if I can even really trust him but he seems so concerned that unless he's keeping me for ransom he must be at least a little trustworthy.
*thoughtfully* He's really jumpy around me, though.
*lays claim to the first store and immediately begins pulling things off racks and piling them into your arms* This one is so last year...ooh! Somebody's been hiding this skirt!
such a worrier
*snorts* That's putting it mildly. *cheerfully* All gloom and doom, that one. It's sort of adorable though.
*pauses in her machinations to look at you closely for a moment* I can imagine he'd be jumpy, yeah. But you can trust him, no doubt about that. He spent most of his other life worrying about you in one form or another so I suppose it'd be asking too much of him to give it up now.
*sighs wistfully* I would kill for your figure, I really would.
Actually-- *remembers what Túrin said about being vague, the killjoy* --yes. I think that's safe to say.
*looks over your selection with a critical eye* It's a little tame for my taste but then I could probably do with a little more subtlety now and then. *grins* Throw it on the pile.
you're beautiful
*oh yeah, you'll make a great sister-in-law* Oh, come on now. My type's a dime a dozen.
*thinks that you seem to know a lot about her* So, how do Túrin and I know each other, then? I mean. He said we were related but that was it. He's been pretty close-mouthed ever since.
My type's a dime a dozen.
*chuckles a bit* I don't think there's anyone quite like you. Don't you see the way he looks at you?