[Evy has not been awake for hours at this point. She woke at eight, a bit reluctantly, and spent the hour dressing, tidying, and poking at her own books. The electric kettle has been turned on; the little table set with cups and saucers (and a plate of biscuits, just in case); and her nose is currently in a volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, something easily enough set down when she hears a knock at the door.
And that's precisely what she does. She comes to the door with a smile for her guest--and an even more delighted smile when she sees just what he's carrying. Swinging the door wider, she gestures him inside. Her room's fairly sedate--but the bookcases make immediately obvious what she's been spending most of her spare change on since arriving in Asgard.]
Come in, come in! Would you like some help with those?
[Look at all the books he brought with him! To say that Evy's pleased to see them is an understatement.]
no subject
And that's precisely what she does. She comes to the door with a smile for her guest--and an even more delighted smile when she sees just what he's carrying. Swinging the door wider, she gestures him inside. Her room's fairly sedate--but the bookcases make immediately obvious what she's been spending most of her spare change on since arriving in Asgard.]
Come in, come in! Would you like some help with those?
[Look at all the books he brought with him! To say that Evy's pleased to see them is an understatement.]