Almost instantly the hands withdrew and with it the sign of any person. Feeling strangely worried about the reappearance of the gentleman if they might Nimiane shifted her weight, wondering if she should try to make her way back. But then who was to say that she wouldn't get lost in the fog. Before she could think through the possibilities or the actions a face appeared in the fog, reddened as her own was with embarrassment of the situation. The innkeeper, whom she had no almost no interaction with but as it was a small town he was rather a recognizable figure of their society. She had never expected the figure of Irvingly to be someone who would take advantage of such a situation and his stammering seemed to indicate it merely an accident of the current fog situation. She didn't know what to say either and found that this was perhaps one of the most mortifying scenes of her own life. Instead of saying a word or even fleeing, which might very well have been the right thing to do in such a situation, she stared at him with wide eyes and red cheeks and felt as if she were stuck where she stood.