Nero's grin grew into a smirk. He could recognise what she was trying to do--how could he not, when he himself employed the tactic so many times? Hold your composure, flash a smile to make them feel relaxed, make your conversation partner feel as it were a privilege for them to be speaking to you; all the better to set the terms in your favour. He did notice some particularly sharp teeth when her wide smile crested her face. Is that supposed to be intimidating? Really? he thought, bemused at the idea.Â
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but even through Kink's baggy clothes that did well to hide any semblance of figure she might have, Nero could see that she was quite thin and probably didn't eat very regular meals. When they first bumped into one another, "scruffy" was the word he'd use to describe her, and looking at her now, it seemed wholly inadequate as a descriptor.
He tugged on the arm of a passing barmaid, harried and stressed as she looked. "A meal, please. Bread, cheese, fish," Nero quipped. The barmaid looked insulted. "This not be the Bismarck, sir," she said testily, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Nero responded by slipping a sizable handful of gil into her skirt pocket and winking at her. The barmaid huffed in indignation and ran off.
Hopefully he wouldn't need to hand out any more gil, as Nero was out of pouches to give besides his own.
"You can start," Nero began, turning his attention back to the ragged Miqo'te languishing on the table, "by telling me why some powerful people in this city want you dead. Because I believe I might be able to...dissuade them from that course." He responded to her wide grin with his own smirk. He didn't actually know if the people she crossed were particularly powerful in Limsa Lominsa, but her reaction would likely tell him whether or not he had hit the mark.
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but even through Kink's baggy clothes that did well to hide any semblance of figure she might have, Nero could see that she was quite thin and probably didn't eat very regular meals. When they first bumped into one another, "scruffy" was the word he'd use to describe her, and looking at her now, it seemed wholly inadequate as a descriptor.
He tugged on the arm of a passing barmaid, harried and stressed as she looked. "A meal, please. Bread, cheese, fish," Nero quipped. The barmaid looked insulted. "This not be the Bismarck, sir," she said testily, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Nero responded by slipping a sizable handful of gil into her skirt pocket and winking at her. The barmaid huffed in indignation and ran off.
Hopefully he wouldn't need to hand out any more gil, as Nero was out of pouches to give besides his own.
"You can start," Nero began, turning his attention back to the ragged Miqo'te languishing on the table, "by telling me why some powerful people in this city want you dead. Because I believe I might be able to...dissuade them from that course." He responded to her wide grin with his own smirk. He didn't actually know if the people she crossed were particularly powerful in Limsa Lominsa, but her reaction would likely tell him whether or not he had hit the mark.
