[ It's purely by instinct that she mentally appraises items as they pass. Maggie-May expects nothing less than expensive, given the sight of the castle that she and her escort pulled up in front of. Even if some spots look like they're freshly repaired. That instinct keeps the creeping feeling of dread at bay; that subtle hint that she doesn't belong here, there's been some mistake, and whoever she's meeting in this secluded room isn't all on the up-and-up.
Most people aren't, herself included. It's just a fact of life. Still, she presses on.
She lingers in front of the doors, studying the inscription. That creeping feeling is no longer creeping--it's full-on rolling behind the placid surface she projects. Her eyes fall on the man in the room, and with her head held high, she enters. ] Gotta admit, it's impressive.
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Most people aren't, herself included. It's just a fact of life. Still, she presses on.
She lingers in front of the doors, studying the inscription. That creeping feeling is no longer creeping--it's full-on rolling behind the placid surface she projects. Her eyes fall on the man in the room, and with her head held high, she enters. ] Gotta admit, it's impressive.