Gwenog's hand flew to her face, feeling the press of her frames in her palm. She immediately grasped them and pulled them off. "Ah, yeah," Gwenog waved the spectacles in the air dismissively before slipping them into her pants pocket, "I need them for reading and the like."
A blush crept onto her cheeks, sliding down the column of her throat. She forgot that she had been talking to the broom, something she refrained from doing in front of other people. Nobody really noticed when she did slip, but it wasn't exactly a common behavior. From a young age, Gwenog had an affinity with brooms, but received puzzled, odd looks whenever she tried to explain that it felt as if the brooms were alive in her hands. That feeling had only extrapolated as she had gotten older.
"I wasn't... nevermind," Gwenog said, feeling a bit ridiculous, "Go ahead and grab your broom and set it on the ground. Now see if you can call it up, it might work a bit better now."