"Now that," says Howl, his hand tracing down the line of yarn she's knitted into a scarf, "is a piece of winter wear simply not to be missed."
He gives her a genuine smile, and then notices the cane. His head tilts to one side and he almost says something, but then he reminds himself that this is not his to meddle with.
"It's lovely. As are you. You must have a beautiful name to go with a face like yours."
Stella stopps knitting and turns, first her ear, then her face, to the newcomer. "Why..uh.. thank you." She's blushing, she'd never had someone be so... Was he flirting with her? She'd never been flirted with before. "My name is Stella, um yours?"
He makes to reach for her hand, but they're both occupied with knitting. "I'm Howl, and it's my distinct pleasure to meet you, Stella. Now, tell me about this scarf."
Because he's something of a gentleman, he doesn't just pull out the nearest chair and sit, but he will shortly. After all, why stand when one can sit? Why sit when one can lie down? And why clean up when one need not do so? Nature has its own balance and things always even out.
Stella nods, she's quite unsure of what else to do. "Please. The scarf, it's to go with a pair of mittens I made earlier. I thought the light blue would go well with the dark blue I used for the mittens." She's her usual poised steady sounding self. Not. She's getting a bit flustered by the attention, she can't concentrate on her knitting like this, (not to mention it would be rude anyway) and so puts it down on the table next to her ornage juice.
Last night's encounter has made Stella a difficult face to forget in Cypher's eyes. He's been sitting at the bar, mulling over a bottle of Chianti, thinking about how he really should be drunk with food and with someone else, of which he's doing neither.
Spotting her there, though, he takes his wine glass and moves towards her, his free hand roaming out to finger the end of her scarf.
"Oh, uh..." He looks down into his glass, watching the contents slosh, and gives a shrug he knows she'll just see as a blur. "Surviving. Drinkin' a nice Chainti here. I'd offer you some, but..."
She smiles, it's the thought that counts. "That's alright. I think it would clash with the orange juice I was just having. Do you want to sit down and talk for awhile? Maybe describe the chainti, that would almost be as good as drinking it."
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He gives her a genuine smile, and then notices the cane. His head tilts to one side and he almost says something, but then he reminds himself that this is not his to meddle with.
"It's lovely. As are you. You must have a beautiful name to go with a face like yours."
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Because he's something of a gentleman, he doesn't just pull out the nearest chair and sit, but he will shortly. After all, why stand when one can sit? Why sit when one can lie down? And why clean up when one need not do so? Nature has its own balance and things always even out.
But that thought is neither here nor there.
"Might I join you? I promise, I don't bite."
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Spotting her there, though, he takes his wine glass and moves towards her, his free hand roaming out to finger the end of her scarf.
"Hi, Stella. Nice knitting."
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