At the tone of voice the quickness of his response relief poured through her, her muscles loosened from the tightness she had not realized had gripped them and she was able to peek at his face. As she did she realized he didn't mean the lessons, but rather the conversation. But with how nervous she had been she was simply glad for any positive response. She felt as if she could breathe calmly now. It had been a long time since she had been this nervous over her words. Generally she was a bit, but for the most part she had seemed to master it. Yet when she was around Mr. Prewett it was as if she felt every word out of her mouth might twist and morph into a scene of absolute mortification.

With her eyes on him she saw his brow furrow and recognized the look in his eye from the night at the Sanditon Resort and it startled her. He was concerned? But the thought was pushed from her mind as he stepped forward, closer to her. Her eyes focused on his face she couldn't see his body entirely, but it was a presense near her. Not a threatening one, but a calm and steady one... a protective one. The thought surprised her. Surely the only reason he might be concerned over her, or that she might mistake that as protectiveness was from a lingering responsibility after the diaster at Sanidton.

But then he spoke and Malou had no idea what to say. It had to be the blush, she reasoned, it was the only outward sign of her own nerves. But she couldn't respond 'oh yes, quite, I'm just terribly nervous that every word I say to you will make you realize I'm not worth the time to talk to.' And yet if she replied she didn't feel well to hide the actual truth well, then Mr. Prewett would depart and something inside her desperately did not want to loose his company so soon. She fought to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, from the panic and nerves widening her eyes.

Mr. Prewett stepped closer and for a moment Malou thought he would touch her, her stomach leapt at the thought - but then his hand fell back to his side and she was left with his inquiring gaze, the concern on his brow. She was entirely inadequate in conversation, yet another reason why she should hold no hope. Then why did she want him to have reached out to her? Why did his concern make her feel as if she were safe?

She had to say something, had to keep him from thinking she were seriously ill or worse yet - unsound of the mind. "Oh no, I'm fine -" Her blush was deepening with his increased attentions which did nothing for her case so she blurted the first thing she could think of, "It's just that it is a tad warm in here."

If she were the type of girl his family would want for him she would likely have a fan at the ready to wave coyly in her face at this moment and bat her eyelashes. But she wasn't that type of girl. She didn't simmer and she didn't know the reparte of a ballroom. She was Marie-Louise Skovgaard. Shy, quiet, and feeling as if she were all of sixteen again. As if all the work to get over her shyness, to suceed in her given path had all vanished in the span of talking to Mr. Prewett. She needed to find herself again, to rememeber how easy her conversations with him were. It was just so hard when she realized she actually cared what he thought of her. She hadn't cared in such a long time. She hadn't wanted marriage or the social scene, and now, well she couldn't even pretend she didn't care if she saw Mr. Prewett or not -becauseif she were candid with herself she know that she very much wished she could see him every day.

  

---

Faustus frowned slightly, turning back to her. "Perhaps some fresh air then," He murmured, partially to himself but ended up voicing it out loud, and he glanced to her. He had half a mind to insist they take at least a turn about the room, but they would still remain inside a place that seemed to be heating up by the very second. He didn't wish to startle her or force her to where she didn't want to go - certainly if she wished for some peace, perhaps he would call another time.

"Or if you would prefer to rest, I shouldn't want to keep you." He added quickly. After all, he'd taken her by surprise by his entrance, and it appeared that Mrs. Bagshot might not be home for quite some time. He wouldn't want to overstay whatever welcome he'd been granted by entering without sending a calling card first.

He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at it briefly before re-pocketing it and refocusing on her. They'd just been discussing the merits of music, and while they had their own opinions on the topic, he now knew she had quite the knack for it. Certainly more than he ever did. And he had so unceremoniously interrupted her in her practice.

---

  

That half murmured voice was so thoughtful, so very considerate that Malou felt as if she were being wrapped in a soft feather comforter. "Yes." She agreed but already he was mentioning leaving her to rest, which she very much did not want or need.

She could do this, she reminded herself, so working to make her voice less of a whisper she smiled up at him, "Some fresh air should do just the thing." Malou's smile was as reassuring as she could make it as she looked up at his blue eyes. A walk would be just the trick, then she could focus on other things beyond how close to her he was and just how much she was stumbling over her words. Instead she could focus on the path, or commenting on the weather, or something, anything other than stumbling over her every word.

But then the motion of his arm caught her gaze and she felt her stomach drop. She was wasting his time, she realized as he pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. She swallowed the added, "I've been horribly rude, taking up so much of your time." After all he'd only intended to do a kind deed for his aunt in this errand and here she was forcing him to speak of music and making him concerned for her when it was only her own traitorous body highlighting her own nerves. "If you need to go I shall of course see to it that Mrs. Bagshot recieves your aunt's package." She tried to give him a confident smile, but she doubted that she ever held an ounce of confidence in her (alright, when she was outside of the hospital).

  

---

"Oh, no please!" Faustus exclaimed, a smile immediately leaping onto his face. "I'm in no rush, I assure you, I merely worried I was keeping you from your afternoon." After all, he'd been rather rude in waltzing in without calling upon her or Mrs. Bagshot. But his concern for her remained at the forefront of his mind and he thought perhaps some fresh air might do Miss Skovgaard some good.

"If you'd like to step out for a bit of fresh air, I would be more than honored to accompany you - and your chaperone of course." He added, for that they hadn't had one with them at the Sanditon had been weighing on his mind. Of course no one should really comment on such a thing given the dire circumstances at the time. And being Head Auror had its perks with the assumption that it came with a great amount of authority and faith from the public's point of view. But from here on out, Faustus found himself determined to see Miss Skovgaard's reputation in tact.

---

  

Mr. Prewett's reaction was not what Malou had expected. Her eyes grew wide in surprise and her lips pressed together forming a surprised smile. "No, indeed, you are not." There was nothing planned for her afternoon as it was, but Mrs. Bagshot had warned Malou time and again to never say that to a gentleman, whether he was a caller or not. It simply did not do to be seen as not sought after. Although Malou was quite certain that by this point in her twenty five years it was well assumed that she was indeed not sought after, enough so that most people hardly even remember her among society. Which was something that suited Malou just fine. She had never been one for attention anyway.

He would be [i]honored[i/]? Again Mr. Prewett surprised her. Honored meant he actually wanted to spend his time with her and he was such a busy man, a well respected man, a man that was sought after that it almost seemed a farce to her. But the very thought of it made Malou feel light. "I should very much like that." She agreed, her mind surprised that he thought to include a chaperon. Mrs. Bagshot wasn't home who would be able to serve. It was then she realized that this was also something a proper young lady might think to see too, but more often then not Malou lived on her own without a need for a chaperon. At work there was always a nurse or another healer around so that it was not needed either. But here, yes, here it was needed.

She glanced toward the door and realized that one of Mrs. Bagshot's maids had slipped into the room at some point. Likely when Mr. Prewett had arrived. Malou gave her a soft smile and a nod which the maid replied to with her own curtsey. Malou took that as the girl would be able to serve as a chaperon. It felt odd to use one of Mrs. Bagshot's staff for such a purpose, but Malou supposed that Mrs. Bagshot had likely made it known that they should treat her as family and as such to serve such a purpose for her.

  

---

At first he thought she might change her mind and decide to stay in, which he wouldn't begrudge her in the slightest for doing. But in the end, he found himself glad that she accepted, and he looked to the maid at the opposite end of the room, nodding to her in thanks. Taking his gloves out of his pocket, he slipped them on before giving a small bow and sweeping an arm out to the door. "Shall we, then?" He asked, smiling to Miss Skovgaard.

---