Lucy & Ric
Ric did not consider himself a master interpreter in the ways of women, but it was plain to see that Lucy held a particular dislike for the departed naked man. And rightly so, he thought, based on what limited interaction they had just shared. Rather than pressure her for answers he wasn't entitled to; he chose to breeze on by the subject in the hopes it would alleviate her tensions. "My dear, if not for mice shifters I daresay Cinderella wouldn't have made it to the ball on time." It was his (incredibly lame) attempt at a joke. Ric would be better off sticking to self-expression through song.
Being asked if he was new gave him a chuckle. As a matter of fact, no, he was not and hadn't been for quite some time. What lucy's not knowing indicated was just how anti-social he'd become, though. "That's hardly the case. As for the silk, it's the best my wages here can afford as provided for me by our resident tailors. Circumstances dictate that I can't leave the grounds." He neglected to delve into the exact reasons why; that was a sad story for another day. If nothing else, Ric hoped that his answer clued Lucy into the fact that if she liked the robe, she could have one commissioned. As the minutes dragged on with only speculation to offer in place of cold, hard facts, he resigned himself to being in the dark for the foreseeable future. "This matter may not find a resolution for quite some time. Will you be staying a bit longer or would you care for me to walk you home?"
A chivalrous proposal, but one that didn't seek to presume fragility based on her gender. For all Ric knew she could set him ablaze with but an errant thought. On nights like this one tended not to enjoy traveling alone, and perhaps it was he who perpetuated the role of distressing damsel in need of a friendly escort.