Post by Miroslaw on Jun 4, 2014 21:00:17 GMT -5
As the stranger approached mister Bacon, Miroslaw couldn’t help but stare. The strange appearance had him wondering about his origin. Luckily, he caught himself staring after only a short while. He immediately averted his eyes, hoping no one else caught his primitive demonstration. As Roger took his leave, Miroslaw gave a polite nod as a farewell to Bacon. However, Miroslaw couldn’t help but notice how peculiar Nautilus became.
It was a pleasant surprise to hear that Bacon was a fighter. Perhaps that was why he was able to pick him out and recognized a swordsman's grip. An enlightening bit that did wonders to ease his concern on the surprisingly quick assumption of his skill level.
After only a short while, Nautilus's worry was beginning to seep into Miroslaw. Mister Nautillus must have noticed as he made an attempt to ease the tension. He found it difficult to believe himself after the display Nautilus was giving. Nautilus knew something Miroslaw didn’t, and it seemed something important.
Miroslaw raised his head and looked around to see if anything might have been going on to shed a bit of light on the situation, he saw little. However, his eyes landed on a true beauty currently in route to where he stood. He was not sure he had ever seen a woman of such magnificence, except his wife of course. As soon as she referred to the merchant by name, he knew she must have been of a higher-class, as if the dress was not a give away.
Miroslaw had nearly tuned out and resorted to merely looking into the woman's eyes. When she turned to him, he came close to dying realizing how much he was staring at her. Clearly, he had a staring problem when something unique caught his eyes. As she turned, he shot his eyes away, only bringing them back to her when she began talking to him. Still, he found his eyes setting very deeply on her eyes once again. “Oh, no. You did not interrupt much of anything.” He wiped his hand onto his clothing to reduce any perspiration that had built up over the extended social interaction he had found himself in before pushing it forward to take the ladies hand. “Names Miroslaw Zygmunt, but you may call me what you desire.” He did not mean for it to come off so flirty, but it was too late to take the words back now. After realizing how it sounded, his cheeks became a rosy color, but it was hidden quite well under his large beard.
It was a pleasant surprise to hear that Bacon was a fighter. Perhaps that was why he was able to pick him out and recognized a swordsman's grip. An enlightening bit that did wonders to ease his concern on the surprisingly quick assumption of his skill level.
After only a short while, Nautilus's worry was beginning to seep into Miroslaw. Mister Nautillus must have noticed as he made an attempt to ease the tension. He found it difficult to believe himself after the display Nautilus was giving. Nautilus knew something Miroslaw didn’t, and it seemed something important.
Miroslaw raised his head and looked around to see if anything might have been going on to shed a bit of light on the situation, he saw little. However, his eyes landed on a true beauty currently in route to where he stood. He was not sure he had ever seen a woman of such magnificence, except his wife of course. As soon as she referred to the merchant by name, he knew she must have been of a higher-class, as if the dress was not a give away.
Miroslaw had nearly tuned out and resorted to merely looking into the woman's eyes. When she turned to him, he came close to dying realizing how much he was staring at her. Clearly, he had a staring problem when something unique caught his eyes. As she turned, he shot his eyes away, only bringing them back to her when she began talking to him. Still, he found his eyes setting very deeply on her eyes once again. “Oh, no. You did not interrupt much of anything.” He wiped his hand onto his clothing to reduce any perspiration that had built up over the extended social interaction he had found himself in before pushing it forward to take the ladies hand. “Names Miroslaw Zygmunt, but you may call me what you desire.” He did not mean for it to come off so flirty, but it was too late to take the words back now. After realizing how it sounded, his cheeks became a rosy color, but it was hidden quite well under his large beard.