"Oh - yes, please!" Charlotte called after Briar, hovering by the closed door for a moment as she peered around the inside of 150-year-old woman's apartment. It certainly didn't look like it belonged to someone that old, but then, Charlotte hadn't exactly known what to expect. A cat lady? Not likely. Even if that were Briar's preferred aesthetic, it certainly wasn't Rose's. She never would've let that fly.
Charlotte took a seat on Briar's sofa, perching on the edge and folding her hands in her lap. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to relax yet. She was on the verge of spilling; it was all she could do to keep from tapping her feet nervously. She cleared her throat to distract herself, and then found herself speaking before she was fully aware of what she was saying. "You, er, have a lovely home. How long have you been in Paris?"
Small talk. Good lord, she really was running on automatic.