[center][h1] The Traveler [/h1][/center]

Having someone decide for her what to do next, was, on one hand, nervewracking, after all, some part of her didn't want to be a bother. On the other hand, she was relieved. Fiona would find that the arm she grabbed onto, while hidden beneath the hoodie sleeve, was lean, yet with a clear hint of muscles. Someone strong, without any real "fat" on the bone. Maybe the sensation would also be accompanied by a slippery feeling, given the material that acted as a second skin to the Traveler's body. Sitting down, she couldn't help but take in the smells, and the sounds. All of it was nice, lovely, in fact. Sensations most welcome. However, at the same time, she couldn't help but feel as if she was being a nuisance. After all, she'd not even begun to come up with something to order. But anything further was dashed away at the sudden placement of food before her. A few moments passed as Fiona spoke, before the hooded woman did respond.

[i]"It's...no bother. Hadn't made a decision yet."[/i] There were two things to note about her speech. The first was, despite how few words were spoken, there was a clear accent, or tone, that one would associate with a higher status in life, noble, royal, or perhaps, even higher. But on the flip side, there was no negative side to that, no haughtiness, no entitlement, a humbleness to the tone, like one might expect of a common place soldier, or say, normal person. A sort of oddness then, a refined tone, yet without any sign of the negatives that came with stereotypes regarding upper classes. [i]"Just...a traveler passing through. Thought I'd spend a few nights here..."[/i] The slowness wasn't a speech impediment, rather the woman pausing, as if trying to decide which words would be best to use. She studied the food items from under her hood, considering each one in turn, before picking one. One hand left its dark enclosure, the biosuit clad digits reaching up and onto the table, to grasp one of the croissants. It was held a moment, then lifted, another study given, before it was lifted up further, under the hood, somehow abruptly vanishing into the darkness, as if it had literally just been...sucked away. A few seconds of chewing, then a swallow. It was good, very good. There was a talented baker here, clearly. Probably a monster or human with superb cooking skills. A few moments more passed, then the traveler turned her head directly towards Fiona, and despite the hood, well it was clear eye contact, to a degree, was being held. Not in an intense or threatening manner, merely the politeness one might expect from a diner towards their server. And yet, there was a sense of intensity, not directed outwards, but as if there was a sort of...internal energy behind those eyes. If one was attuned to the right kind of energy, they'd sense the pool inside. A swirling "maelstrom" of magical energy, hidden deep beneath the surface, yet just there, as if waiting. Energy foreign to the world, yet at the same time, natural.

[i]"Do you have...anything cherry related?"[/i] There, a slight note of hesitation this time. As if asking made them nervous. Probably some reason for that. [i]"Or cinnamon sugar...if that's not a bother to ask?"[/i] Someone clearly wasn't used to more common, mundane stuff. Her attention was, however, quickly pulled away, towards the singer from earlier. She couldn't help but smile internally at the other's energy. Sweettoothes are a guilty pleasure the world over, it seemed. Still, she had to be careful, being an outsider, an alien at that, made life tricky sometimes. She didn't want to cause trouble here, not in the place she was certain was a safe haven...