The borrowed dark eyes lifted slowly from the page to look at the young woman speaking. Well, there she was. Beauty. The same borrowed eyes lifted from the face that certainly did deserve the name to the shop's signage. There was a hint of a smirk; it wasn't unattractive exactly, but it spoke of knowing. Baba knew a great deal about stories, even about the young woman's, even if she wasn't exactly the same Beauty Baba had known. Finally she looked back at the book in her hands.
"It's drawn in an attempt to join two styles. A modern one, that of what is it they call it. Graphic...graphic novel? To appeal to a modern audience. With what people see as Russian art. It's almost iconographic, the thick lines." She hadn't looked at Beauty, rather she continued to look at the picture. Her fingers trailed over the thick black lines; the artwork was anything but simple, even if some might have called it simple. They never looked closer probably; there was a subtle intricacy that could appeal to someone taking enough time to look at the damn thing.
"Why not take it to your own home?" Baba closed the book, tucking it next to her body for now as she watched the other woman. It wasn't anger or accusation, but curiosity in her question. Why let it sit on a shelf if she wanted it to have a home?
Baba had taken to something simple as far as clothes went. A simple sun dress, a pair of sandals, and that was about it. There were times she'd bother with the hood to play on the borrowed identity, but she liked the way the sun felt on her skin too much to hide under red cloth.