Aibhilin looked rather surprised when she saw the young Lord of Wolves exit his chambers dressed up in a fine shirt and kilt, with a plain colored plaid borrowed from a widow cook who lost her husband three years ago. She wondered if he was uncomfortable in what she supposed he might think as odd clothing. To her, their norsemen plain colored clothing was odd. And they wore 'pants', odd things like stockings that were loser yet not feminine at all. It showed off too much, if you asked her. They already had their barbarian charms and eye magics. They didn't need tight clothing too. 

But oddly enough she felt even more at a loss with this particular man in her native home's clothing. It was ordinary lairdly wear, something she should be used to with her position by her father's side all the time. A Scotsman in Scotsman clothing was one thing. A Norseman in Scotsman clothing, apparently, was something else entirely. 

The red haired young woman looked agape at him even further when [i]he[/i] apologized to [i]her[/i]. Just what in the great sea and sky [i]was[/i] this man?! She was far used to men who hardly ever apologized in words, especially to a woman. Aibhilin no longer wondered why Norsewomen enjoyed their husbands any more. Seemed their men were far more than met the eye. Barbarians with manners and respect towards women. Hm... Maybe they weren't going to be so bad as guests after all. Interesting how they had such double sides to them. Especially this one.

[color=82ca9d]"You don't have to apologize, ye ken?"[/color] she sighed, [color=82ca9d]"I...[i]suppose[/i] I am at fault as well..."[/color] She was choosing her words very carefully, looking away from him but keeping her head held high, even though she knew she had made a complete and utter disgrace of herself. With a huff and rubbed her brow. [color=82ca9d]"My father has no sons,"[/color] she didn't see his odd staring at her pendant, [color=82ca9d]"I try to help him th' best I can, but I... Even I get scared, alrigh'? Ye say you have a little sister? I have [i]three[/i] and if anythin'  were to happen... Well, I am the eldest. I have to protect them, ye ken?"[/color]

Looking up finally, almost sheepishly, she caught his odd wide-eyed staring. But before she could ask what was wrong, he insisted that they go. [i]Peculiar. [/i]But a relief, really. Leaving meant no more apologizing and she was just fine with that. All of that was too uncomfortable foreign territory for her. Leading the way to the Great Hall, she was relieved to see her sisters all huddled around one another, speaking and whispering among themselves. They always seemed to do that, so Aibhilin felt herself relax. Glancing back at Haakon, she motioned for him to follow her.

The Hall was already filling up, more people than usual, what with all their new guests being so interesting. It seemed as though there were already a few friendly drinking competitions and jokes being exchanged between some of the more easy going Scottsmen and Norsemen. Well, that was good, she supposed. At least that meant fewer fights to break up. Perhaps they would all be able to dine in peace for once. The curious people would realize the Norsemen were just men after all and drift back down to their cozy little homes. And in a few days the sea warriors would leave. Off to scare another coastal village clan nigh out of their socks and merely request tribute.
[color=82ca9d]
"Since you are the [i]Jarl[/i],"[/color] she wondered if she had said that right, since her very Scottish tongue rolled it a bit too much, [color=82ca9d]"You'll be set next to my father. Fair warning, ale is strong and he gets competitive when he gets drunk."[/color] She looked him up and down then gave him a small tilted smile. [color=82ca9d]"Though it would be an interestin' test. Scott against Norseman, aye?"[/color] she gave him a small push on the shoulder and pointed to the chair next to her father, [color=82ca9d]"Donna lose too badly, [i]Jarl[/i] Haakon. We wouldna like fer ye to get too roughed up, now would we?"[/color]