“Ohhhhhhh,” she breathed on a sigh of understanding. “I see.”
He was shy. And here she came with her babbling and her forwardness. It must have made it doubly hard for him, even though he said the talking didn't bother him. How could it not? If he was trying to build a bit of a buffer because he was shy, she just kept tearing it right back down with her babbling. Oh, now she felt just terrible.
“Here.” Lottie pulled a handkerchief out of her back pocket and, without asking, took his hand again. Totally missing the point that touching him was probably worse than babbling at him, Friendship blithely made an impromptu bandage for his scrape. “That's better, right? At least cleaner.”
Then she realized she was holding his hand again, and did a little blushing of her own. But she didn't let go. She didn't look up either. Somehow, in her mind, she thought if she didn't look at him, maybe it would be easier for him because he wouldn't be meeting her eyes. She always did a little better in uncomfortable situations if people weren't staring at her.
“Thank you for the compliment, it's always nice to know people think you're pretty. Especially if you're full of dirt and grease like I am today.” She smiled gently. “But there must be some women that don't make you blush, right? Like your mom or your sisters? Maybe just... consider me a sister. That'd be a 'safe' sort of girl, right? Even when your sisters are pretty, they don't make you blush, do they?”
If she remembered right, the Norse were weird about the brother-sister thing, unlike just about every other pantheon out there. But Lottie tried not to judge. And if it helped Hermod, she'd be willing to go with it.