Post by Violette 'Lettie' Feucomme on Aug 20, 2010 16:13:22 GMT -5
Lettie was surprised at Falcan’s stammering and general sudden shift from cool and in control to a babbling idiot. She wondered if Alessandra was the sort of woman (well, sort of person anyway) to turn all men like that, or if their friendship was something more. But Lettie wasn’t a particularly romantic person, and she certainly wasn’t the type of girl to play matchmaker, so she decided not to say anything.
She chuckled at Falcan’s embarrassment over being in prison, and punched him in the arm again. “Oh, your man here didn’t do nothin’ wrong. The guards round here don’t know a traveller from a bandit, that’s the trouble.” This was Lettie’s way of showing friendship, by bailing him out of a potentially difficult situation. Normally she’d just sit back and hope for dramatics, anything to alleviate the boredom of evenings on the Waterfront.
She and Marc exchanged a look when she commented on liking the waves. Like many of the dregs living there, they had a love-hate relationship with the Waterfront. They would go on about how you haven’t lived until you’ve lived there, but at the same time knew they lived in one of the most filthy, dangerous and generally un-beautiful places in Cyrodil, and anyone from outside who said otherwise was generally met with cynicism. But she was wary of the vampire, so she didn’t challenge her. Instead she asked something which she had been wondering about when she said she lived in the city. “How d’you walk around without getting garlic thrown in yer face? By folks like that pr*ck Falcan here took down, I mean.”
She chuckled at Falcan’s embarrassment over being in prison, and punched him in the arm again. “Oh, your man here didn’t do nothin’ wrong. The guards round here don’t know a traveller from a bandit, that’s the trouble.” This was Lettie’s way of showing friendship, by bailing him out of a potentially difficult situation. Normally she’d just sit back and hope for dramatics, anything to alleviate the boredom of evenings on the Waterfront.
She and Marc exchanged a look when she commented on liking the waves. Like many of the dregs living there, they had a love-hate relationship with the Waterfront. They would go on about how you haven’t lived until you’ve lived there, but at the same time knew they lived in one of the most filthy, dangerous and generally un-beautiful places in Cyrodil, and anyone from outside who said otherwise was generally met with cynicism. But she was wary of the vampire, so she didn’t challenge her. Instead she asked something which she had been wondering about when she said she lived in the city. “How d’you walk around without getting garlic thrown in yer face? By folks like that pr*ck Falcan here took down, I mean.”
