Embarrassed as he might be, Greta rather enjoys these little moments when she manages to fluster him, especially if she doesn't even have to try. She knows that he's about as well-practiced at maintaining his composure as she is at baking; he wouldn't fumble like this naturally. It's nice to think she has such an effect on him, and her attempt to bite back a grin doesn't even come within shouting distance of success.
The explanation -- such as it is -- leaves her desperately curious, but when he offers her the box, she finds herself unable to do much more than blink at it for a moment or two. That's--is this jewelry? She can just about guess by the shape of the box, and the weight of it when she reaches for it, automatic and unthinking, and takes it from him. It's still quite a guess, though, because she hasn't been gifted jewelry since her wedding. They never had the means for such things, back home; most gifts served some practical function, and most finery was inherited. Even if someone could afford such things, they would never be bought on a whim.
"Thomas," she starts, shooting him a glance that's more stunned and incredulous than pleased. She's not quite sure where to go with it, though. 'You shouldn't have' only applies when you can fully believe someone's done something in the first place. But the box isn't imagined, and neither is the sweet sincerity in his expression. A giddy little smile graces her features as she looks back down at the box, and then gamely cracks it open.
It's a necklace: a smooth gemstone (goodness knows what sort, though it has a warm, amber color to it) set in silver. The design takes her a moment to parse: a figure with something -- a lyre? -- tucked into the crook of his arm, and a rather grim, skull-like countenance. Or perhaps it's meant to be wearing a helm of some sort.
It ought to be an odd choice. There really isn't anything about the look of the necklace that she finds especially noteworthy, no element of the design that speaks to her. Yet there is something about it... some vague affinity she can't quite place, as if it's an old family heirloom she only saw once, as a child, and then promptly forgot.
"I..." She doesn't know what to say, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the necklace. But she knows she doesn't want Thomas to think he's bungled it, and she shifts over to tuck herself against his side as she continues to examine it. "It's..." she huffs out a bewildered little laugh. "It's lovely. But I--I think I see what you mean, about it being... hm."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-04-21 03:42 am (UTC)The explanation -- such as it is -- leaves her desperately curious, but when he offers her the box, she finds herself unable to do much more than blink at it for a moment or two. That's--is this jewelry? She can just about guess by the shape of the box, and the weight of it when she reaches for it, automatic and unthinking, and takes it from him. It's still quite a guess, though, because she hasn't been gifted jewelry since her wedding. They never had the means for such things, back home; most gifts served some practical function, and most finery was inherited. Even if someone could afford such things, they would never be bought on a whim.
"Thomas," she starts, shooting him a glance that's more stunned and incredulous than pleased. She's not quite sure where to go with it, though. 'You shouldn't have' only applies when you can fully believe someone's done something in the first place. But the box isn't imagined, and neither is the sweet sincerity in his expression. A giddy little smile graces her features as she looks back down at the box, and then gamely cracks it open.
It's a necklace: a smooth gemstone (goodness knows what sort, though it has a warm, amber color to it) set in silver. The design takes her a moment to parse: a figure with something -- a lyre? -- tucked into the crook of his arm, and a rather grim, skull-like countenance. Or perhaps it's meant to be wearing a helm of some sort.
It ought to be an odd choice. There really isn't anything about the look of the necklace that she finds especially noteworthy, no element of the design that speaks to her. Yet there is something about it... some vague affinity she can't quite place, as if it's an old family heirloom she only saw once, as a child, and then promptly forgot.
"I..." She doesn't know what to say, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the necklace. But she knows she doesn't want Thomas to think he's bungled it, and she shifts over to tuck herself against his side as she continues to examine it. "It's..." she huffs out a bewildered little laugh. "It's lovely. But I--I think I see what you mean, about it being... hm."