 Wowza!
Not wholly at ease but considerably more so than before, Nerissa allowed herself a moment to fully scrutinize the boy--Wolfric. Wolfric was his name. Mama would have hand plenty to say about his overly large choice of pajamas, to be sure; mama often had much to say about a great number of things, after all. But papa would have applauded his grip, cold as it was. It was firm. A gentleman's handshake, papa would have said. She let go, simply nodding at his words though privately displeased he hadn't caught the true meaning of her words. She was never comfortable with explaining herself; words could be embarrassing. Like lifting an additional layer of skin she hadn't known she had.
Not that he could have understood her meaning, of course. Wolfric was little more than a stranger, and even if he wasn;t, it was unlikely he could read minds. "Mama could not charm anything for me, she is a muggle." Which was not the point she was trying to make. And any case, her father could do it for her, surely--if she were to ask, if she caught him in a good mood. Nerissa wrung her hands for a moment. "But a charm wouldn't keep people's eyes--at bay. It's strange to think someone can just look at my things." And it shouldn't be strange, she knew that now, but it was. Such were the problems that came with growing up in a remote place in Swansea, rarely if ever in the company of anyone but her parents. Or au pair.
She eyed him. And his nickname. And wished he hadn't offered it because it was too familiar and frankly, ridiculous. She could not imagine willingly wanting anyone to call her that. Little Nessie had been bad enough. And her muggle grandparents loved it. "Wolfie. Alright." She couldn't very well confuse that she thought his nickname was anything less than acceptable. "But only if you call me Nessa." A nickname in exchange of another; it was the only way to bring their relationship back on equal footing.
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