He could feel her tension before he’d so much as touched her, which Conall supposed, distantly, he could understand - there was an exotic snake in close contact with her, most Irvingly folk would be unnerved - but on a practical level, this would be a great deal easier for everyone if she relaxed.
Instead, she panicked, which startled Conall and the creature in equal measure, although he supposed it did make the snake’s exit that much swifter. Ordinarily, that ripping sound of fabric wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, but here the clothes were not his, were decidedly more expensive, and belonged to a posh young lady who’d not take kindly to showing off her shoulders to the world, let alone anything more.
“Calm down, it’s out,” Conall protested, his eyes resolutely lowered to the snake as he stepped backwards to carry it out of reach of her, dangling it in the air from its tail so its three heads tangled about each other in confusion. The last thing he needed here was for anyone to make more of a scene. (The screaming had been bad enough; next thing he’d hear was that Irvingly thought he was going about assaulting young ladies. And letting snakes loose on the streets.)
Hurriedly, he tossed the dead mouse from his pocket on the ground to occupy them, and then chanced a ginger glance her way. “You’re alright, though?” He asked urgently, “besides your - er -” wardrobe malfunction.
Instead, she panicked, which startled Conall and the creature in equal measure, although he supposed it did make the snake’s exit that much swifter. Ordinarily, that ripping sound of fabric wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, but here the clothes were not his, were decidedly more expensive, and belonged to a posh young lady who’d not take kindly to showing off her shoulders to the world, let alone anything more.
“Calm down, it’s out,” Conall protested, his eyes resolutely lowered to the snake as he stepped backwards to carry it out of reach of her, dangling it in the air from its tail so its three heads tangled about each other in confusion. The last thing he needed here was for anyone to make more of a scene. (The screaming had been bad enough; next thing he’d hear was that Irvingly thought he was going about assaulting young ladies. And letting snakes loose on the streets.)
Hurriedly, he tossed the dead mouse from his pocket on the ground to occupy them, and then chanced a ginger glance her way. “You’re alright, though?” He asked urgently, “besides your - er -” wardrobe malfunction.
