[ He's patient waiting for her to climb out of the fountain despite the chill beginning to seep into his lower extremities. He's patient too as she begins to examine the dress in length for other means of technology that could possibly be the source of the fabrics' warmth. It's something he would have done had he not already been wearing clothes whose magical warmth had already faded.
There's no frame of reference for him to draw from with what she's telling him, nor does he understand the language (or is it slang?) that spins easily off her tongue, but there's enough there that he can draw certain conclusions. Namely that she didn't consider herself a part of the fancier folk and that she was still talking about clothing. Of course the rich used their wealth to make their own lives slightly more comfortable while the rest were left to fend for themselves. Thankfully he manages to bite his tongue before any bitterness can make itself known.
When her towel drops Cassian averts his gaze. The act might be silly considering he had spent the last several minutes trying to coax her out of the fountain as she stood naked like a newborn porg in the cold but he still wanted to give her privacy - even if it was the illusion of it. Looking back only to be greeted with the sight of her flapping her arms is a ridiculous sight. So ridiculous that it tugs the corners of his lips up and another rusty laugh escapes him. ]
What gave that away? A fountain for a door, pre-warmed clothing or floppy sleeves?
[ As it fades he realizes that his laugh sounds so strange to his ears. Creaky. Misused. Like he's undeserving of laughter when Ferrix is in shambles and people he cares for are on the run. The smile fades slightly but distraction comes when the mages quietly hand her shoes over to him. They're easy to slip into but he crouches down to place them at her feet and provide something to hold onto should she need it all the same. ]
no subject
There's no frame of reference for him to draw from with what she's telling him, nor does he understand the language (or is it slang?) that spins easily off her tongue, but there's enough there that he can draw certain conclusions. Namely that she didn't consider herself a part of the fancier folk and that she was still talking about clothing. Of course the rich used their wealth to make their own lives slightly more comfortable while the rest were left to fend for themselves. Thankfully he manages to bite his tongue before any bitterness can make itself known.
When her towel drops Cassian averts his gaze. The act might be silly considering he had spent the last several minutes trying to coax her out of the fountain as she stood naked like a newborn porg in the cold but he still wanted to give her privacy - even if it was the illusion of it. Looking back only to be greeted with the sight of her flapping her arms is a ridiculous sight. So ridiculous that it tugs the corners of his lips up and another rusty laugh escapes him. ]
What gave that away? A fountain for a door, pre-warmed clothing or floppy sleeves?
[ As it fades he realizes that his laugh sounds so strange to his ears. Creaky. Misused. Like he's undeserving of laughter when Ferrix is in shambles and people he cares for are on the run. The smile fades slightly but distraction comes when the mages quietly hand her shoes over to him. They're easy to slip into but he crouches down to place them at her feet and provide something to hold onto should she need it all the same. ]