Re: [Not-a-picnic: Nel, Lear, Daddy]
Nel didn't care for the cold. Give her a sticky heat any day of the week. Her breath didn't mist, and she didn't feel a chill in her bones, but she much preferred a warm rain and a humid day. The coat was a trifle she was fond of. Nel had arrived here on a motorcycle, and she wore a fur coat. She did what she liked, and she'd no interest in what others made of her eccentricities. Had she been interested in being entertained, she would've belted out in song about the cold never bothering her anyway, but she was not interested in being entertained.
She expected him to deny being sent here by Odin, Ozzie, whatever he was choosing to call himself these days, and she didn't interrupt his denials. "Don't be absurd. Do I seem the type to attack when someone's back is turned? That's your tact, dearest, not mine." Nel had never felt the need to kill someone with their back turned. Honestly, what type of death godess did he think she was?