( Sarissa is blessed, in some regards. An employer who is well-meaning, and who is experiencing struggles enough with a sudden decline in his vision that it necessitates an assistant. Furthermore, the particular nature of his difficulties make some of her own less immediately apparent to him. Of course, she can keep much carefully covered, the fashions of the time make it possible; a high collar, buttoned, long sleeves. She has never felt especially comfortable in full skirts, but she could only push so far in terms of her requests, when she was already "interfering" with so much of Mr. Walker's business. A woman in trousers would be... unacceptable.
She seems him enter, of course. Watching as she does, from the shadows. Apparently it wasn't a desirable habit in someone meant to serve customers, but certain inclinations die hard. That he is beautiful is very apparent. It makes the necessity of speaking with him even worse, in all honesty. )
Good afternoon.
( Something in how she speaks isn't quite right for London. There's a lot of Englishness in it, but a broadness and roughness is just present enough to mark her as someone from elsewhere.
Stepping out more clearly into the room, she smooths the fabric of her dress. Dark green, reasonably well made, but a simple design. Incongruous with her present dress was, perhaps, the coarseness of her hands. Not delicate things, but ones accustomed to work for many years, even if that work had softened in months past; she is by no means a lady. The past was not always so quickly covered over. )
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-02-02 06:36 am (UTC)She seems him enter, of course. Watching as she does, from the shadows. Apparently it wasn't a desirable habit in someone meant to serve customers, but certain inclinations die hard. That he is beautiful is very apparent. It makes the necessity of speaking with him even worse, in all honesty. )
Good afternoon.
( Something in how she speaks isn't quite right for London. There's a lot of Englishness in it, but a broadness and roughness is just present enough to mark her as someone from elsewhere.
Stepping out more clearly into the room, she smooths the fabric of her dress. Dark green, reasonably well made, but a simple design. Incongruous with her present dress was, perhaps, the coarseness of her hands. Not delicate things, but ones accustomed to work for many years, even if that work had softened in months past; she is by no means a lady. The past was not always so quickly covered over. )
How can I help?