After spending time with Thomas at the tree lighting ceremony, the prospect of tea had seemed a bit less intimidating. He was good with Saoirse, and the girl clearly liked him, which felt like a potential hurdle preemptively cleared. And Greta liked him. It was impossible not to; he was too entirely charming to dislike.
That made her nervous. 'Wary' might be a better word. Charm could be donned like a cloak, and goodness only knew what could be hiding underneath. She might count herself lucky that the worst thing she'd discovered so far was indifference. (Thomas doesn't strike her as indifferent, though. He's already spent more time and effort on getting to know her than she'd expect from someone who only wanted a hasty, meaningless dalliance.)
But more than anything else, what propels her into the tea shop is a burning curiosity to know just what he does intend with all this. That he might be making a sincere attempt to woo her strikes her as either hilarious, terrifying, or thrilling, depending on the moment; that this might be an oddly formal overture of friendship is intriguingly bizarre; even the thought of it all being some mean-spirited hoax is compelling, insofar as she'd rather shed daylight on the scheme than fall prey to it.
Regardless, she's here, in the nicest dress she owns. She wasn't about to make (let alone buy) a new one just for this occasion, and none of her dresses are purely for show... but this one is of a finer, light blue material she never would have been able to get her hands on back home. Not the sort of thing she'd risk by wearing it to work. She also has the shawl Biffy gifted her around this time last year (which probably is the nicest thing she owns, and makes whatever else she's wearing seem nicer by association). And she can't help but light up at the setting. She had no idea this tea house even existed, but it's bright and cheerful, and the exposed rafters and brickwork remind her a little of home.
She doesn't spot Thomas until he stands, looking... ugh, perfect, because of course he does. She is suddenly, profoundly grateful for the shawl, and she clutches it a bit tighter, as if to ward off the sudden conviction that, intentional or not, this has to be a joke. She must have stumbled into the wrong story again.
But she's too stubborn to turn back, so she follows the hostess over to their table and offers Thomas an uncertain smile. "Hello again."
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That made her nervous. 'Wary' might be a better word. Charm could be donned like a cloak, and goodness only knew what could be hiding underneath. She might count herself lucky that the worst thing she'd discovered so far was indifference. (Thomas doesn't strike her as indifferent, though. He's already spent more time and effort on getting to know her than she'd expect from someone who only wanted a hasty, meaningless dalliance.)
But more than anything else, what propels her into the tea shop is a burning curiosity to know just what he does intend with all this. That he might be making a sincere attempt to woo her strikes her as either hilarious, terrifying, or thrilling, depending on the moment; that this might be an oddly formal overture of friendship is intriguingly bizarre; even the thought of it all being some mean-spirited hoax is compelling, insofar as she'd rather shed daylight on the scheme than fall prey to it.
Regardless, she's here, in the nicest dress she owns. She wasn't about to make (let alone buy) a new one just for this occasion, and none of her dresses are purely for show... but this one is of a finer, light blue material she never would have been able to get her hands on back home. Not the sort of thing she'd risk by wearing it to work. She also has the shawl Biffy gifted her around this time last year (which probably is the nicest thing she owns, and makes whatever else she's wearing seem nicer by association). And she can't help but light up at the setting. She had no idea this tea house even existed, but it's bright and cheerful, and the exposed rafters and brickwork remind her a little of home.
She doesn't spot Thomas until he stands, looking... ugh, perfect, because of course he does. She is suddenly, profoundly grateful for the shawl, and she clutches it a bit tighter, as if to ward off the sudden conviction that, intentional or not, this has to be a joke. She must have stumbled into the wrong story again.
But she's too stubborn to turn back, so she follows the hostess over to their table and offers Thomas an uncertain smile. "Hello again."