Ida managed to give him a bracing smile when she sensed he was about to launch into things. The phrase ‘waiting with bated breath’ came to mind because - well, it wasn't starting off well. There was nothing poetic about what she said unless he was trying to read into things. She thought polite inquiry about work was supposed to be just that– polite. If she can’t rely on that, then what on earth should she talk about at these sorts of things? Just the weather, then?

He was quoting this Keats fellow now. Just the weather, then, she thought darkly. Though what he said was intriguing – and unexpected, once she bobbed up out of her initial wave of panic. The young woman tilted her head to the side in thought as he went on, not even grimacing when he talked about love, because even before he explained it, it seemed to her like that wasn’t the point.

One small shake of the head – not rambling – as the meaning of the poem meandered through her head. She could see Keat’s perspective, and found it supremely familiar. "I suppose some ghouls never get their words– metaphorical or otherwise – out in their mortal life," she annotated in agreement.

But then Mister Greengrass levied over what sounded like another compliment, and Ida’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of pink. It’s not that Ida didn’t like what he said, it was actually quite… nice. But the why he said it worried her more than anything! Damn it all– she didn’t make a habit of carrying her fan to professional functions like this, but how she wished she had one to dally with now.

“His fear is relatable, though I doubt I have much more in common with Keats than that,” she managed to feebly deflect. If he loved Keats so much, she was certain she wanted nothing to do with him! (Although the poem sounded interesting. ...Regardless!)

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