(no subject)

[irishvelvet]

[ Sharp eyes watching from behind tree. ]

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[steadyheart]

Professor Gray always said, an ounce of manners was worth a pound of power when it came to the fae.

("How is it you've hung in there so long, then, you terrible old man?" Dillie'd asked him once.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Noakes?"

"Only that my mother'd've hauled you up by the ear if she ever saw how you behave in faculty meetings. Professor."

He'd leaned back in his chair and tapped a lump of spent ash from his pipe. "Perhaps I have the magic to spare. As you do not, I advise the former tactic.")

Fortunately Dillie's mother had drilled perfect manners into all her children along with certain other habits. Among those was a tendency to carry snacks, because you never knew when you might miss your bus or be stuck working late and it wouldn't do operate at less than your best due to low blood sugar. More than once a stashed candybar or baggie of trail mix has kept Dillie awake and focused while on-call...so it's not much of a stretch to say her snacks have saved lives.

Right now they could very well save her own. "Oh! Of course!" she follows the personage's pointed stare at her bag and quickly slips the top flap's toggle. Some clever needlework transformed the interior of the basic canvas knapsack into a many-pocketed grab bag. Her herbs and vials all have their own slots, but so to does a simplified version of her EMT field kit. Dillie reaches for a zip compartment and comes up with an apple, a packet of cheese sandwich crackers and a chocolate mint Clif bar. There's some jerky in there, too, but she's going to assume herbivore until proven otherwise.

She places the apple in that dark, outstretched palm, and offers the two wrapped packages with her other hand. As she does so, Dillie's eyebrows pinch and then smooth back out, marking the quick passage of a thought. "If you'd like me to stay, I only ask that it be, um, the way people like me measure time."

God forbid she disappear into some faerie realm for decades. She's got second shift tomorrow!

[irishvelvet]

Without much concern about appearing nosy, Fia leans forward and tries to peer inside her bag as she opens it, eyes lighting up when he sees what she has for him.

Jewellery and pretty, sequinned things were always popular choices, but food Fia held in very high regard indeed. Every time, he was pleasantly surprised by what he was given, and this would likely prove to be no different. Apples he knew well already, but the other two items have him almost theatrically enraptured. So much so that for a good minute or so he doesn't reply to her question.

Instead, while he inspects the packaging of the crackers, the hand holding the apple reaches up and deposits it between two of the smaller branches of his antlers. That'd do just fine for later; these wrappered treats were far more interesting right now. Said wrappers do confuse him for a second, but in the time between heartbeats, he's disappeared from in front of Dillie, and reappeared atop the trunk of a fallen tree several feet behind her, as if a quick sit down will help him work out how to get to the food item inside.

"An' how do people like you, specifically, measure time?" Ah, got it - ripping into the packet of crackers with his teeth, Fia glances over only once, but offers a playful smirk alongside his reply. "D'you prefer clocks? Or sun dials, perhaps?"

He knows exactly what she means; for once it's meant lightheartedly, but that's no reason he can't have a little fun.

[steadyheart]

Dillie almost waggles the cheese crackers and the protein bar back and forth, just to see if the fae creature's eyes track them. She chooses self preservation and stomps down hard on that urge. It helps that she, herself, is distracted when they use their antlers as a makeshift pantry. She's struck by the image of apples dangling from the branches, candlestubs lit on the prongs, strings of popcorn strung between the rack. In her defense, it's seasonally appropriate.

She blinks that picture away, and in so doing loses track of her host. As she's casting around, reflexively looking down for foot--hoof?--prints in the loamy soil, their voice pipes up behind her. She mostly manages to tamp her surprised jump down to a spin.

They've got the serrated edge of the cheese cracker packet between their teeth, which doesn't prevent them from asking a potentially loaded question. Dillie has to check both her immediate answer (By my watch, usually) and her offer to help them get at the snack. One could be too open ended, the other insulting.

"Well, I work night shift usually," she smiles back. "So how about moon phases?"