After that, she was all business. He spent the next few hours being measured and passing time with idle chat with the mare, who scribbled notes furiously as she drew up designs. She was good company, and he didn’t mind her accent. Not as if he had any right to complain if he didn't, even though he deliberately kept up his own accent-less English, further disguised by the airs he had put on. It was kind of hard to keep a good brogue down. She had particular trouble with his hands, spending two hours alone trying to get their intricacies down. She practically sighed with relief when he informed her simple armoured boots would be enough for his feet. They did not require the articulation of his hands.