Quicklog: Dinner and company
"Oh." She replied simply, personally not finding the situation to be much in the ways of ideal. Certainly she'd been in that position, but hers had been a different sort, what with beggars not having the luxury of being choosers and all that.
"But if he's good folks by Misha's way of countin', then prolly he can't be a bad sort yeah?" Sadie reasoned it was sound logic because, if anyone could be trusted to steer you in the direction of warmth and goodness, it was the fiddler she'd first met here. "Reckon that's got to count for quite a bit at any rate, figurin' he's been spot on, far as I can tell." She offered a light smile then. "Present company surely counted there too." She echoed his compliment at the end, the smile blossoming into something touched and genuine at Dietre's praise of her. It always felt good to hear nice things from people. She liked being seen as nice and kind and worked hard to present those traits.
She tried her best not to fixate and fret over the way he seemed so rattled though. She'd been in states like that before, weathered and exhausted by the life she'd led, and the very last thing she would have ever wanted was to feel under the microscope. That didn't change the way her sleeve tacked heart bled for the man though. She even had half a mind to reach out, to offer a light touch of comfort, but opted to remain seated on the stool instead. Some people, she knew, weren't fans of such things and the last thing she wanted to do was add to whatever was going on behind the curtain over there.
"Find it hard to imagine folks who don't like some kind, I do." She switched topics of conversation easily enough. "'Sides, you got good taste in it, you do, you do." Another bite of soup when down with the compliment, which was accompanied by an affirmative nod when she swallowed. "Been tryin' to keep up with some of the pieces ye' suggested back along too, so if'n e'er you feel like comin' roun' to 'ave someone to play with, hope ye' know yer always welcome. Me Ravel's still more dusty than I like, but ain't nothin' a practice or too can't cure all quick."
She thought about offering a way he could help, thinking maybe that'd be a good segue into shifting the focus, but then she wondered if he might feel obligated and so she bit back the impulse, letting a comfortable kind of quiet settle on them instead. A breather was good in dialogues like this, where she needed to check herself and be mindful of how delicate words could be. It wasn't even Dietre's state that drew it out of her, but rather Sadie's perception of her own inadequacy there. She was still relearning how to talk to people, to trust her mouth to make sounds on autopilot without the strain of control, besides which she didn't think people always had to say something. Sometimes a quiet moment said more than all the consonants shoved in as filler ever would.
"What about you though, whacha been playin' lately?" She asked, trying to impart an ease to her tone.