[CENTER][h1][b][color=87ceeb]ɪ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴀ  ʙ ᴇ ʀ ꜱ ᴛ ᴀ ʟ[/color][/b][/h1][/CENTER][INDENT][sub][hr][/sub][color=#87ceeb][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=gray][I]Lot 1 -- Ana Moore's Home[/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Date:[/b] [COLOR=gray][I]Spring, Day 1[/I][/COLOR][/right][/SUP][/color][sub][hr][/sub][/indent]
[indent][indent]Irina simply blinked, staring back at the woman with a blank, perhaps confused face. Was this some new gesture that the kids were doing, or maybe some city gesture she hadn't heard of? It didn't help that the woman also seemed dumbstruck, too.

[color=87ceeb]"Uhm, well,"[/color] Irina spoke, trying to think of a way to [i]not[/i] make the conversation any more awkward than it already was. Perhaps the pie could be a starting point. [color=87ceeb]"I'm sure you already heard me, but I'm Irina—the local postmaster around these parts. I thought to stop by since we'll likely be seeing each other pretty often in the next few weeks, and so that you wouldn't be thinking I was trying to break into your house or something in the morning."[/color]

Okay, that was a dumb thing to say. Knowing Irina's luck, the woman probably thought she was a maniac by now, but who knows, maybe it was a jest that she'd find funny.

[color=87ceeb]"Anyway, I made a pie for you. It's one of my grandmother's famous recipes."[/color] Irina explained, lifting away the cloth covering the apple pie in her hands. [color=87ceeb]"I figured that since you were new to the town, you might not have anything for the picnic Eugene invites everyone to on the first of Spring, but if you already had something planned for the event.... then, a pie never hurts as a 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, right?"[/color][/indent][/indent]
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