"Why would someone be following?!" she asks a little surprised, a slip-up into paranoia for a moment.
She finds herself a bench, and sits down on it, hand reaching for the bag that's hanging at her hips, as it always is, a constant even if she can't remember how long she's been in Yancai. Two years? One?
She sinks her hand inside the bag, which is no larger than a reticule (she did make it somewhere very renaissance-looking) so it should make no sense to see her arm disappear down to the elbow and come out with a notebook, to an outsider.
"Notes, I made notes." She thrust the notebook straight up at him, because the pain feels like it sits behind her eyes right now. "I've taken notes of our travels, please." She waves the notebook at him for him to take it.
no subject
She finds herself a bench, and sits down on it, hand reaching for the bag that's hanging at her hips, as it always is, a constant even if she can't remember how long she's been in Yancai. Two years? One?
She sinks her hand inside the bag, which is no larger than a reticule (she did make it somewhere very renaissance-looking) so it should make no sense to see her arm disappear down to the elbow and come out with a notebook, to an outsider.
"Notes, I made notes." She thrust the notebook straight up at him, because the pain feels like it sits behind her eyes right now. "I've taken notes of our travels, please." She waves the notebook at him for him to take it.