“I do not yet own a pair,” she told him. She was saving her money, but at the moment she had not yet been able to justify the purchase to Lord Demiel - about weapons, it was best not to bother the Lady - and so she had been making do with training weapons or, with Lady Marcos, the Hell Claws the likes of which she most certainly could not hope to own anytime soon. “It will be training claws, I am afraid.” A bit clunky when she knew what the real thing felt like, but for learning, more than adequate.
At his statement regarding the food - and his smile - she flushed a little, nodded, stood. “Please do not feel the need to rush,” she told him. “In returning the dish, I mean. I would not imply...” She stopped, feeling very foolish. Honestly, it had almost sounded like she was telling him to eat slowly! She was not his... governess! “I hope that you enjoy it,” she told him. “I should.... there is training to be done yet.” And that was quite enough of her babbling. Why in the world should he be bothered about it? If he ate her pasta, that was more than enough. “Welcome back,” she told him, hiding behind manners like a shield. “I pray for your swift recovery. And happy... belated birthday. Again.”
Why was this so much harder than discussing weapons? She was meant to be adequately skilled at social interaction (even if she had her doubts about her own proficiency).
“Good day,” she told him, mentally forcing herself to shut her mouth immediately after so that nothing else inane would come out. She bowed a little at the waist, then fled out the open door.