[ The smile she gives in response is encouraging, but rather understated. Born of politeness, not of anything genuine - she’s far more restrictive with people she doesn’t know well. Her hands remain in place, a twitch away from her weapons; his bag, whatever is in it, goes wholly ignored by Pyrrha. She isn’t about taking from others what they have worked for.
She starts to walk. It’s a slow walk, and could be mistaken for one of ease. It’s not. Very aware of the footsteps behind them, Pyrrha knows running only makes it worse here.
Conversation, when it comes, is awkward. She fumbles for words. ]
It’s a... —nice night, isn’t it?
[ An equally awkward smile, made more of plaster than warmth, to match her clumsy attempt at idle chat. ]
no subject
She starts to walk. It’s a slow walk, and could be mistaken for one of ease. It’s not. Very aware of the footsteps behind them, Pyrrha knows running only makes it worse here.
Conversation, when it comes, is awkward. She fumbles for words. ]
It’s a... —nice night, isn’t it?
[ An equally awkward smile, made more of plaster than warmth, to match her clumsy attempt at idle chat. ]