Re: Eddie's House: May / Eddie
He made her agreeing to tea sound like some grand victory, and that actually made her shove back on a smile. The memories crept up on her of payments given for services rendered, decades worth of barter and trade in exchange for her help. He might not realize that he'd become part of that group, but he wasn't awful at it. She'd known a few others who did their best to give what she really wanted and not just what they had on hand. It made her nod, a subtle approval. (And, for her part, she'd seen a lot. And that included people who had been scarred inside. Soldiers home from war, women with hand-shaped bruises, children who'd gone quiet. Eddie's black marble eyes wouldn't surprise her.)
She watched him with his glasses, doing who knows what, and she shook her head. This was what she meant when she'd said that he moved at a different pace and that plants would require him to slow down. She kept scratching beneath Matilda's collar, absently moving up to her ears, a slow progression of doggie pleasure. Hats were too much to deny though, and May let her go when the bowler was offered. In exchange, May accepted the robe from Eddie, eyebrows inching up as she did. She knew it wasn't his originally (it didn't feel like something he'd buy for himself, especially not with that monogram), and she knew that the label of 'prized possession' was meant to be a joke. But she also knew that the piece was well-worn and thus well-loved. It may not have been in perfect shape, but it was often the most-loved things that became the most battered from use and affection. Her hands were still clean (even if they were a little rough), and she was gentle when she took the sliding material from him, folding it with care and setting it to the side. It reminded her, in a way, of an alter cloth she'd had years ago - used to the point of near-disintegration. Her thumb swiped over the cowl neck of the robe, and she almost smiled.
Eyebrows up as he reached out, she simply looked at him for a second (assessing) before she leaned over to lift her basket, hoisting it easily toward his hand. It was heavy, but not overly so. Once he had it well in hand, she stood from the step, wiping her hands on her pants, and followed him to the side of his house. Her eyes took in the space, searching for the right place for the Lewisia, giving a little nod when she found it and walking over. She listened to him as she did, and then looked back, over her shoulder, a frown on her face. She looked at him closer then, as if she could see if there was something wrong with him that she'd missed before. "I'd avoid them for now. The churches." It was more words than she'd said since walking up to his house, and the very faint lilt of England finally came out. It was subtle, nearly gone, but some vowels still clung to her homeland.