Re: [Not-a-picnic: Nel, Lear, Daddy]
Nel was a sight in her pounds of fur and snappy silk shirt. She had dressed sharply, as usual, and to intimidate. He hadn't even bothered with a proper coat, just a blazer, no gloves to be seen. His breath misted in the chill of the orchard, so he was warm-blooded, after a fashion. The cold didn't touch him.
He couldn't see the snake, but he didn't doubt that he was here, snugly secreted somewhere on her person. He leaned against the tree. "It seems like a bad plan," he said, meeting her gaze. The steady mist of his breath was briefly interrupted, flowing from his nostrils in a plume. "It's not like him. It's not like me." He blinked, examining her. Green eyes were not so soft, in actuality. They sharpened on a dime, picking out the individual hairs on her coat where they framed her face. He smiled. "If you really believed what you say, you could have attempted something on me already. I gave you my back when you approached, but you didn't even try. You aren't convinced."