Page 311: A Handmaidenly Interlude
A Handmaidenly Interlude
Summary: Rosanna has an entirely innocent, safe conversation with her handmaiden.
Date: May 26, 2012
Related Logs: Directly following Proper Apologies
Laurel Rosanna 
Groves Camp Area — The Twins
Tents and stuff.
May 26, 289

Laurel's packing has been done for a moment, here at least. Likely, there is more to do inside to make her lady ready to depart, but she hesitates on ducking into the tent as the lord walks away from it, her gaze flicking between Rosanna and his back. Without even thinking about it, her thumb fingers her mouth, and she begins chewing at a sharp-edge of her nail. "Are you done, m'lady?" she mumbles quietly around her fingernail.

"Don't chew your nail, Laurel. It's unseemly," Rosanna says with casual judgment. She does not answer the question directly, although she does look at her handmaiden with uplifted brows and an expectant gaze. YES?

Laurel yanks her hand away from her mouth, nodding quickly to reassure Rosannathat she heard her, perhaps? "I've got to pack the inside now," she offers hesitantly. "I didn't know if you were going to be." Randomly approached by other men.

"Going to be what, Laurel?" Rosanna asks. It's a bit awful the way she goes out of her way to make her squirm.

"If there were going to be any more—," Laurel tries to voice, getting further this time even as her gaze drops away to her feet. Finally, she adds in a mumble, "If you're expecting Lord Rutger or somewhat, I should stay out here. With you."

"Well, I wasn't expecting Lord Riordan, was I?" Rosanna says carelessly. And then, for good measure, she reminds, "My lady."

"My lady!" There is almost a hint of panic in Laurel's voice where she adds it quickly, nodding again and again. Bobbing her head, even. "No, my lady. He was ratherI mean, he seemsMy lady."

"He seems my lady?" Rosanna echoes her skeptically.

"No, my lady. He seems like he was—I mean, I shouldn't say what lords seem like, my lady. I am sorry," Laurel says quickly, chewing at her lower lip instead now.

"What does he seem like?" Rosanna says, pressing lazily upon the point like a cat playing with a mouse.

"He seemed sincere?" Laurel offers in a question, finally, scuffing her toe against the ground. "Did you think so?"

"Yes, I do think Lord Riordan is terribly sincere, whatever he says," Rosanna agrees, although there is an attitude of dismissal that seems to lay claim to the thought as her own. Either way, she doesn't sound terribly impressed by the fact.

Head nodding again, Laurel agrees as if the idea was hers to begin with, anyways. "Of course, my lady."

"Mm." Rosanna tosses her hair, pleased to be agreed with. "And Lord Rutger?" she asks next. "What do you think of him?"

"He seems—dangerous," Laurel utters before she can think better. Catching herself, she adds a questioning, "Maybe?"

"Dangerous?" Rosanna echoes back with dangerously deceptive innocence.

"Only that he is so, uhm. He's handsome?" Laurel questions.

"You're scared of him because he's handsome?" Rosanna surmises with laser-tight precision.

"No, I don't think he's handsome," corrects Laurel quickly with a rather bright flush, almost breaking out into a sweat. "My lady."

Rosanna arches one brow in the first overtly dangerous gesture of the conversation. "You think Lord Rutger uncomely, Laurel?"

"No, no. He is surely—He has caught your eye, my lady. He must be really handsome," Laurel answers with a shake of her head.

"But you couldn't say for yourself," Rosanna says. "You've no idea if you find him handsome? Does he scare you, Laurel?"

"Yes, my lady." Laurel's words are quiet, obscured by her simple nod.

"Really?" Rosanna steps closer. Right in close. "Why does he scare you?"

"He has—those rumors about him. That's—all," Laurel says, backing up in a shuffling step to turn to the packing. She even puts some of the luggage between them, ostensibly to check on the lock.

Rosanna watches Laurel for a long, eye-narrowed moment. Then she says, "You're not to say anything about this to Day or my brother. They don't need any encouragement."

"Of course not, my lady," Laurel agrees quickly, bobbing a curtsey in relief.

"Good." Rosanna reaches out to wind a lock of Laurel's hair about her finger, smiling sweetly at the handmaiden, before turning to wander back towards the tent.

Laurel breathes out, breathes in. Checks the lock again. Then she wanders back in after her lady to start packing within the tent.