Fairspell Meadow mister, i've seen scary and you ain't got his smile

Eventually, the combination of her scent and her call draws him forth, and her shoulders relax. The pale figure glides towards her but halts, and she makes her own way forth, closing a gap between them but not so much that she infringes upon whatever dignity she can have in his presence. When he poses the inquiry that makes the heat of her cheeks inflame, she tenses momentarily before relaxing once more, unbothered by his suggestive tone and almost humiliating words. She sighs, content if not flamboyant of the fact; denial was for the weak and she did not care enough to lie. "I must admit, I cannot," Her head tilts, but her expression says nothing of embarassment. On the contrary, in fact. It is with justified reason that she seeks him out; or, reason enough. "I just can't seem to figure out who you are. I'm not used to that," More and more does she admit things that she does not admit to herself, but realizes that she recieves nothing in return. She speaks to a stranger who clearly wants something of her, something she is not willing to give, but speaks fondly with very little reward. It is uncharacteristic, and she does not like it. But she cannot help herself. With slight exasperation does she  "I do not even know your name," The fact dawns upon her, and her nose juts forward, meeting his eyes with a certian amused suspicion laced within. He does not know her's, but she is not the one who showed up on her door; she demands things as he worms for information. It is a toxic duo, but it works in an odd way that she will eventually come to know, moves more smoothly than her and the man who fathered her children.