( Oh no. There is no possible way that he'll be able to pronounce her name, as pretty as it sounds. The syllables roll off her tongue like music, and he has no hope in Hel of echoing that. Björn ducks his head, acutely aware of the height difference between them, and leads her into a room full of tables and chairs. Not a single bench in sight.
But he is admittedly not as focused on that yet as he perhaps ought to be. ) The pleasure is mine, my lady.
( Because there is a perceptive girl on his arm, and he is too busy turning to her with an amused half-smile. He nods once, eyes alight with curiosity. )
It is. My father is King of the Danes. ( He tilts his head, considering. ) And where might you be from?
no subject
But he is admittedly not as focused on that yet as he perhaps ought to be. ) The pleasure is mine, my lady.
( Because there is a perceptive girl on his arm, and he is too busy turning to her with an amused half-smile. He nods once, eyes alight with curiosity. )
It is. My father is King of the Danes. ( He tilts his head, considering. ) And where might you be from?