Maeve Sheridan knows she's better than you. (few_and_far) wrote in wished,
Maeve spun quickly, honestly surprised that Delaney had followed her into the back. She tried to play it off and kept her expression schooled as she turned back to her potion, charming the ladle to keep stirring it slowly for her. She wasn't used to others being in her workshop, not at least without asking permission or acknowledging it in some way first.
"I-uh-you," Maeve stammered and fiddled with the apron draped across the long table she had covered in notebooks. She wasn't used to flirting and the switch from words to physical gestures threw her. Words she could always cope with, even if it required false bravado. "You must not have met many other Irishmen if my accent sounds sexy. I promise you, it's very plain."