Oddly slightly endeared by this show of incompetence, Djura automatically moved to correct the lady's situation, tightening the glove's buckle so it clung tighter to her smaller hand. The hawk, Peace, glared down at him with some accusation in her yellow eyes. If a bird could sigh, she would've.
But Djura was more forgiving, and might've proceeded to show his eccentric new acquaintance how to fly the hawk if he wasn't suddenly distracted by some news.
"Underw—"
Well then.
He had absolutely nothing to say to that, and his mind went similarly blank — perhaps unwilling to lapse into a moment of undignified imagination. But at least he could introduce himself on autopilot. "Djura Crossridge." And then the blankness of his mind bred some unexpected transparency when he might otherwise be silent; "my wife passed away some time ago, and I've no sisters to speak of, so I'm afraid I shan't make the most effective publicist, Mrs Fraser."
![[Image: djura-sig.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/19ZN7g0/djura-sig.jpg)
But Djura was more forgiving, and might've proceeded to show his eccentric new acquaintance how to fly the hawk if he wasn't suddenly distracted by some news.
"Underw—"
Well then.
He had absolutely nothing to say to that, and his mind went similarly blank — perhaps unwilling to lapse into a moment of undignified imagination. But at least he could introduce himself on autopilot. "Djura Crossridge." And then the blankness of his mind bred some unexpected transparency when he might otherwise be silent; "my wife passed away some time ago, and I've no sisters to speak of, so I'm afraid I shan't make the most effective publicist, Mrs Fraser."