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((Backdated to after this..))
( But first, indulge me in some socking )
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Well, here she was, and here was the moment of truth, when she'd finally learn if Oly's advice had been sound. Brienne was still dubious about this prospect. She was in Muggle jeans--something she'd bought herself because wearing armor indoors was not always pleasant for everyone else around her, and she found the trousers more comfortable to move around in than wizard's robes. Over the jeans she wore a simple cotton tunic-style top. She didn't appear as if she'd rolled off the sparring field, but neither did she look dressed up.
The one concession to femininity she'd allowed herself had been a splash of perfume, and even that didn't have a terribly feminine smell.
She stood waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall, feeling lost, even though it was a room she'd been in dozens of times before. Nervousness was not an emotion that suited her, and it was one she was particularly uncomfortable with. She told herself over and over that she could handle this. Everything would be fine. She just needed to relax and have a good time, and not assume that Methos had any expectations other than the same thing.
When she eventually spotted him, she straightened her shoulders and marched across the room. Though she never would have put it this way, 'fake it til you make it' seemed like a useful idea, and she certainly didn't want him to see that she *appeared* as nervous as she was.
*********
Well, here she was, and here was the moment of truth, when she'd finally learn if Oly's advice had been sound. Brienne was still dubious about this prospect. She was in Muggle jeans--something she'd bought herself because wearing armor indoors was not always pleasant for everyone else around her, and she found the trousers more comfortable to move around in than wizard's robes. Over the jeans she wore a simple cotton tunic-style top. She didn't appear as if she'd rolled off the sparring field, but neither did she look dressed up.
The one concession to femininity she'd allowed herself had been a splash of perfume, and even that didn't have a terribly feminine smell.
She stood waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall, feeling lost, even though it was a room she'd been in dozens of times before. Nervousness was not an emotion that suited her, and it was one she was particularly uncomfortable with. She told herself over and over that she could handle this. Everything would be fine. She just needed to relax and have a good time, and not assume that Methos had any expectations other than the same thing.
When she eventually spotted him, she straightened her shoulders and marched across the room. Though she never would have put it this way, 'fake it til you make it' seemed like a useful idea, and she certainly didn't want him to see that she *appeared* as nervous as she was.