07-30-2013, 08:02 AM
A scowl; she wouldn’t have been surprised by a scowl. Maybe a slight huff, or an annoyed purse of the lips - even being totally ignored. As far as reactions went, any of those would have been pretty normal, and Thalia was accustomed to strangers finding her affable nature presumptuous. But for an ominous moment, the guy didn’t look simply irritated; he looked angry. It rose and fell in a second, deepening back to his stone cold expression of severity almost as quickly as she could blink, but she saw it. And he didn’t smile.
"Cold is the heart of winter. Moscow gets a ton of snow, though I have to admit the novelty of it wore off after the first Christmas I spent here. Still, you should see the army of snowmen that get put up in Old Arbat Street!" She smiled thanks, then, once passed, dumped the bag by her feet and scanned her eyes up the height of the bookcase. Her gaze was drawn to colour and shape more than title, despite that she was looking specifically for Norse mythology, and already she began slipping books out of their places, flicking through, and then replacing them. She loved the smell of old vellum.
Since he didn’t seem the type for idle conversation, and she wasn't quite sure if she had offended him with the coat comment, she was surprised by the question. Her first impulse was to shrug; she read lots, really - whatever whim happened to capture her attention at the time. But she had a soft-spot for myth, and it resounded in most of her paintings - if it was that very same connection which made it something of a delicate subject.
So rather than think about that, she chose to note that he said in the CCD, which meant that not only was he definitely not local (as if the coat itself hadn’t made that obvious), but that he was from beyond the Dominances altogether. What he said was true enough, though; her own parents had always been slightly exasperated with her esoteric interests. So she nodded with an understanding grin. "Uh huh. I studied history at MSU, for a while anyway. The academia didn’t agree with me, but I’ve always loved this stuff." At which point she chose to take an interest in the book in his hands, of which she could only see part of the cover. "Greek?"
"Cold is the heart of winter. Moscow gets a ton of snow, though I have to admit the novelty of it wore off after the first Christmas I spent here. Still, you should see the army of snowmen that get put up in Old Arbat Street!" She smiled thanks, then, once passed, dumped the bag by her feet and scanned her eyes up the height of the bookcase. Her gaze was drawn to colour and shape more than title, despite that she was looking specifically for Norse mythology, and already she began slipping books out of their places, flicking through, and then replacing them. She loved the smell of old vellum.
Since he didn’t seem the type for idle conversation, and she wasn't quite sure if she had offended him with the coat comment, she was surprised by the question. Her first impulse was to shrug; she read lots, really - whatever whim happened to capture her attention at the time. But she had a soft-spot for myth, and it resounded in most of her paintings - if it was that very same connection which made it something of a delicate subject.
So rather than think about that, she chose to note that he said in the CCD, which meant that not only was he definitely not local (as if the coat itself hadn’t made that obvious), but that he was from beyond the Dominances altogether. What he said was true enough, though; her own parents had always been slightly exasperated with her esoteric interests. So she nodded with an understanding grin. "Uh huh. I studied history at MSU, for a while anyway. The academia didn’t agree with me, but I’ve always loved this stuff." At which point she chose to take an interest in the book in his hands, of which she could only see part of the cover. "Greek?"
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