He sniffs as composure is regained once more, the large claw lodged within carved nordic armor removed.

            “That saber cat had your name…. “

          Sniffs ( mother's habit, surely ) as he watches the other male dislodge           the  offending  CLAW -- somewhat  inspecting  for  blood as he does.           While the other is carrying heavy armours,    this one suffices for thick           leathers and a few metal plates.    Who said one must be weighted by                                            steel to be a WARRIOR?

                              He won't comment ;; only cross his arms                               over  his  chest  and  continue  to  stare. 

Headcanon Meme Time!

sparrowsurana:

“Have you ever seen something so… Beautiful?"

            Excuse her, but she’s a bit over whelmed by how lovely Skyrim              could be, when it wasn’t trying to behead her.

"Beautiful? Women--they are quite beautiful--"

           He is, after all, a young man who has eyes only for the finer things, so often the wrists of pretty young creatures, but--

"Flowers--Snow--Rain on a warm day... many things are beautiful. Why do you ask?"

                         She would sooner see him go,   sooner find herself a break from a                          man that is far too curious for her tastes, but he looks at her in this                          way like he doesn’t quite believe her and, well— there aren’t many                          that can suss out her lies with such ease. 

                         Just like that, he seems to have captured her interest,  though the                           thief expects that he  may lose it the moment she figures out why                          it is he’s so good at reading her. She hopes it’s nothing too boring,                          though also has to hope that he isn’t a member of the City Guard,                          as the last thing she needs is somebody like that taking an interest                          in her. It would make her job quite difficult, and Denna decided a                          long,  long  time ago  that  it is  already  difficult  enough  as it  is.

                         Still, regardless of his maybe-profession, his words bring a smile to                          her features. It is easy and pretty,  allowing him to think that she is                          about to say something so very lovely to him—      rather than what                          actually leaves her lips a few moments later. 

                         How honoured he is,  to be speaking to this Amelie that Denna has                           imagined up in no time at all. Never would she dream to show her                          true self to anybody. Let alone a total stranger.

                        ”I'll remind you that I never actually stole from you, though. So you                          can’t hold that against me. Alright?”

                   He  slips  a  hand  beneath  the  hood  he'd  been  wearing  and  sets it                          over  his  shoulders,      ruffling  his platinum  hair in the process. She's                          funny--thinks  pretty   highly of  herself, or at least is trying to make him                          believe so,     and he can only chuckle.       He's not giving up--she's fun.

                          "I wouldn't think of it--but, I will be keeping a trained eye on your fingers,                           Melie." That isn't the name she gave him, but what does it really matter?                           The name doesn't suit her, doesn't flow well off of her tongue ( though it                           does flow convincingly--just not to the Imperial Interrogator )--he also                           doesn't particularly like the name Amelie. Poor woman.

                          And as if he's weaselled into some  space  of camaraderie , he shoves                           his hands within his pockets,     sets his torso slightly off kilter,       head                           canted aside--small grin on his face.

                                                            "Where are you off to?"

                         A sigh will pass her lips and it is all Denna can do to stop herself                          from sticking a dagger in the fool’s gut. Doesn’t he know that you                          just don’t go running after thieves,    drawing all of that attention                           to yourself? Perhaps he doesn’t, but then again, he doesn’t strike                          her as a fool either. 

                         Clearly, he just wishes to irritate her. And it is working.

                         Of course  he knows the true and unalterable consequences which can,                          at times arise from waltzing up so gallantly to a known t h i e f...   spilled                          insides being the least of his worries, but he has never been one to fear                          such things.  She is beautiful--and maybe that crosses his mind much                           earlier than the idea of consequences.

                                           And as the name slips past her lips, it is all her can think, one                                             word -- Liar. Sly little liar, and it makes him grin. If she wishes                                            to play these game, he will be only so                                                                                            happy to oblige--he is so very bored.

                                           My     name   is    Fran.                                            P l e a s u r e,  Amelie."                                            Because he is  no liar.

Camelot

        “Maybe you are just a bad comedian.” 

        "Vigi thinks I am hilarious--"                    Vigi is also four years old. "And you are any better?"