Adrius is admittedly baffled by Maurtia’s immediate acceptance of his offer. Of course. Of course what? She doesn’t mind that he called her rude? That he can hardly swallow his rage enough for a vague semblance of manners? In another time, he would have been struck down for speaking so petulantly; he nearly flinches when she answers.
The disgruntled man glares at Maurtia once more before growling, “Maurtia. I’m Adrius.” He looks away immediately, desperately attempting to blink away his rankled frustration.
It’s hard for Adrius to admit—even now, in the throes of his agitation—that he feels any form of extreme emotion. That’s why blood rushes to the veins in his cheeks, heating the flesh there uncomfortably. He attempts to gloss over her compliment, black eyes flashing at her in what might appear as panic. Swallowing again, he looks at the muddied earth, feeling mildly defeated as he wonders just what exactly he has gotten himself into.
“I’m coming,” Adrius grumbles begrudgingly, breaking into a trot in an attempt to find Maurtia’s pace. “No, I’m fine if you’re fine,” he answers almost too quickly. In truth, the pattering rain does agitate his aquatic form, but that is one weakness he won’t admit to her. At least not now. And he doesn’t necessarily trust her with any physical disadvantage.
“Why are you doing this, Maurtia?” he asks after a couple of moments of walking. He’s genuinely curious, if a bit nervous, and nearly stumbles over his next steps.
@Maurtia