Overture Downs oh, i think you're standing on my left foot

she does not have to wait for long.
her suitor is better than anything she could have expected. a man, one who is tall and handsome in that dark, rugged way that was just her style; aged like a fine wine, and probably with just the right sourness of one too. but he does not look too happy about coming upon her.
she turns toward him as if she hadn't at all expected him, lashes fluttering as she blinks away her surprise; quite obvious in her examinations of him, but pretending to make an effort to hide it.
you... you okay, sir? she calls out, noting the distinct reek of cortisol which swarmed her senses. perhaps she would have a cure for that — albeit a temporary one.