"I-" Roxanne began, only biting her lip to keep herself from interrupting Rivalen as he spoke, and his own nervousness, infectious as it was, made her fumble for her own words. With her cheeks growing ever pinker at the [i]extremely awkward[/i] thought of one [i]extremely awkward[/i] situation, she found herself holding her breath. So much that she brought a hand to her lips to try and hide even part of her expression from him, and couldn't help but laugh - quite awkwardly still - at his little slip-up. "O-of course! Yes...yes, that's what you meant. Of course!"
She kept herself from shaking her head, eyes travelling down to where he stood in a deep bow. Her fingers, previously hanging idle at her side clenched the fabric of the skirt of her gown and fiddled with it a little as she cleared her own throat, assuming a more dominant tone to the best of her ability before continuing, "I...I understood what you had meant, Rivalen. You...you are forgiven. Rise, now."

...though that didn't particularly serve to lighten the tension in the room at that moment. And it wouldn't, either, even as she continued to speak. "Well, I...I prepared this list for you. Rather, this list for the [i]new personal attendant[/i], when I new they were arriving. I realise you will have memorised the daily routine soon enough, though I would like for you to have it. [i]I insist.[/i]"
She held out her hand and the scroll to him, though it was small, compared especially to the more formal scrolls that messengers brought to the kingdom from others. The schedule was never intended to be more than a guideline, and she had thought that she could pass it into the hands of a woman, rather the woman who would grow to become her friend more than just her personal attendant, and that the size of the sheet of paper did not matter.
Unfortunately, in this situation, [i]it very well may have been life or death.[/i]
Giving the rolled up sheet to Rivalen would mean their hands would definitely touch at some point. The paper was too thin for her to grab one end and him to grab one end and successfully make the transfer that way because it would fall to the floor and-
She paused.
It was not like she [i]cared[/i] or anything, up until that point. The paper never seemed like an issue, it really didn't. She considered taking him for his word for a second and actually not giving it to him. But then it would have gone to waste, and Roxanne hated that she'd spent even a fraction of her time and effort on something like that, and then for it to have to go to waste.

"H...here." she spluttered, hoping that it would be done quickly and without much fuss, and that the fear only stayed within her own mind. Of course, Rivalen wouldn't have been thinking about a thousand and one things. The very [i]idea[/i] for a peasant to even do so was [i]hilarious[/i] at best.
[i]Or maybe he knows, and he just wants it to happen, and-[/i]
She grit her teeth to settle her paranoia. In a way, it made her almost like her father. Perhaps paranoia wasn't something induced at his wife's death, but the case was more one where his inner paranoia was [i]amplified.[/i] And genetically passed down to his daughter. Brandon usually was much better at hiding it, and sometimes Roxanne believed he didn't so much as feel a thing.

She had intended on the action to be as swift as humanly possible, though knew that fumbling with the scroll like that would make her drop it, and she did not want to seem like the absolute [i]ditz[/i] of a stubborn brat Rivalen had taken her for naturally. She reached out with the scroll gripped tightly enough in her hand, lifting it to his and placing it in his, fortunately, open one. She thanked her stars he wasn't as nervous and hadn't balled his hands into fists just yet.
Her slender fingers brushed against his palm as she did so, and it made her flinch and her grip on the paper tighten, though she swore to herself she'd let go.
And she did, thankfully, hurriedly enough, taking her trembling hand back and holding it with the other, to her chest. She could tell even an action so small as that left her cheeks flushed, and she tried to focus her gaze anywhere but the young man with the deep brown eyes standing before her. They moved to the tall walls, where paintings hung high, not unlike the ones in the hallways. Some of them were stories of old wars won, and some of them were Victorian beauties of the current day and age, women in their fineries, enjoying occasions like tea in lavish gowns, or banquets and masked dancers. Some of them stood in the arms of suitors, or [i]lovers[/i] Roxanne had always made them out to be. Some of the paintings were particularly daring, scantily clad women in the styles of foreign artisans, laying on sofas and mattresses.
...nothing happened to improve the state her cheeks were in as her thoughts drifted to the texture of his hand.

[i]Rough.[/i]
She lingered on the thought. It was completely unlike that of any man who had taken her hand to kiss the back of it in greeting, because even so, they were all too soft. No, this was a man's hand with ridges accredited to honest, hard work. But of course, he was a commoner, and it was completely likely that he spent his days out on the fields doing hard work to even get by. Oldpine very likely might have also had the knights ravage it to take tax from the inhabitants. She winced at the thought of the poor people being forced to pay up whatever little they might have earned, though she, from her former Accountings classes, knew there was just no other way.

She snuck a glance at Rivalen again. He was handsome still, up close like that. She felt her thoughts wavering. She wanted to reach out, touch his hand again. The feeling was so foreign to her, and she wanted to trace every last crease, down his knuckles, just to have an idea of what life outside the castle would be like. Sure, the women's hands were similar (she'd especially come to find when she'd bathe), but there was still a delicateness about them that Rivalen's hands lacked. Something [i]masculine[/i] about his hands, that even the hands of the growing Quentin's hands lacked.
The touch of a man. Rough, and hardened by the world. The capable, hard-working hands of a man.
She bit her lip, internally cursing at herself for letting such a small detail have her this flustered, bringing her hands to either side of her again and, to not prolong the moment any longer than her thoughts always going back to thoughts of this man's origins, and his work, and oddly enough whether he really had killed three wizards or not, and if that was his active occupation.

She moved over to the bed, hanging at the top left post for a second with her back to the man before gathering the skirts of her gown and sitting herself down before the tray, a hand reaching for a piece of spiced bread. In the same motion of breaking off a tiny morsel, she made eye-contact with him again. And then broke it. And then told herself to maintain it, and returned her eyes to him, "That would be all, Rivalen. Thank you. Though since I am at leisure now, I...you may pull up a stool." she gestured to the two dainty-looking stools at the foot of her bed, probably used for visitors like the doctor and whatnot, "...I still know nothing about you, save what you told me earlier. Did you find your room without much trouble? What did you do, before this? You...you're still young, but not young enough to not have had an occupation. I find myself increasingly curious about the mysterious man whom I have to refer to as my 'personal attendant' henceforth.

[hider=Contents of the scroll.]
[center][h3]The Princess's Schedule[/h3][/center]

[b]6:00 am:[/b] Waking

[b]7:00 am:[/b] Breakfast

[b]7:30 am - 9:30 am:[/b] Courtroom dealings

[b]9:30 am - 12:00 pm[/b] Leisure time

[b]12:00 pm - 2:00 pm[/b] Afternoon classes

[b]2:00 pm[/b] Dinner

[b]2:00 pm onwards:[/b] Leisure time

[b]4:00 pm - 6:00 pm:[/b] Evening classes

[b]7:00 pm - 8:30 pm:[/b] Supper

[b]Notes:[/b]
[list]
[*][u]Sundays[/u] warrant church from 8:00 am to 11:00 am.
[*]After supper, on [u]each alternating day[/u], the personal attendant must attend to the princess's bath.
[*]Officials and messengers visit court in the mornings, [u]during 'courtroom dealings' time[/u]. This may take over 'leisure time' if a particularly serious matter arises.
[*]In the case of [u]a banquet[/u] in the evening, evening classes are scheduled [u]one hour early; end at 5:00 pm[/u], and the personal attendant must assist the princess from the hour the classes end to the time of the banquet.
[*][u]Tea[/u] is expected to be served liberally throughout the princess's day.
[/list]

[/hider]