[It's pure instinct for her to grab lightly at his arm as he guides her out of the entryway. She's standing very close to him now out of necessity - clearly if one has issues with personal space this is not the place to be.
Wanda's not really sure why he brought her here when he can't hide his disdain for the crowd. Was it so obvious that she was uncomfortable that this was preferable?]
Come on, I think I see room over there.
['Over there' is the end of one of the farther tables, and it might be generous to say there's room for both of them. Wanda gives his arm a gentle tug but still doesn't let go. They have to walk through the crowd to get there and although she knows she can't lose him in a confined space it just feels like the thing to do.
Wanda knows she looks like an outsider - she does not wear her hair or do her makeup in the Asgardian style, nor is she wearing clothing that would excuse her lack of elaborate braids. Still, few people seem to pay them any serious mind, too engrossed in their mead or their companions or their lover on their lap. One man gives her the kind of once-over that makes her skin crawl, but she glares at him and keeps moving towards the empty space.
It's only once they reach it that she lets go of Loki. He can take the end of the bench. She has the impression that if he's already grimacing at the sound that he'd hate being wedged between her and a stranger far more than she would.
She offers an apologetic smile and a shrug.]
It could be worse? [It's definitely not getting better than this, that's for sure.]
no subject
Wanda's not really sure why he brought her here when he can't hide his disdain for the crowd. Was it so obvious that she was uncomfortable that this was preferable?]
Come on, I think I see room over there.
['Over there' is the end of one of the farther tables, and it might be generous to say there's room for both of them. Wanda gives his arm a gentle tug but still doesn't let go. They have to walk through the crowd to get there and although she knows she can't lose him in a confined space it just feels like the thing to do.
Wanda knows she looks like an outsider - she does not wear her hair or do her makeup in the Asgardian style, nor is she wearing clothing that would excuse her lack of elaborate braids. Still, few people seem to pay them any serious mind, too engrossed in their mead or their companions or their lover on their lap. One man gives her the kind of once-over that makes her skin crawl, but she glares at him and keeps moving towards the empty space.
It's only once they reach it that she lets go of Loki. He can take the end of the bench. She has the impression that if he's already grimacing at the sound that he'd hate being wedged between her and a stranger far more than she would.
She offers an apologetic smile and a shrug.]
It could be worse? [It's definitely not getting better than this, that's for sure.]