<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/VoMy9La.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Allie<br/><strong>Race and Occupation:</strong>Half-elf country girl troublemaker<br/><strong>Location &amp; Time:</strong>Country roads, trying to take someone home to the place they belong.  Mid-day.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><hr/>Lifting her head at his reply, she seems rather pleased to be sharing the spoils of victory and to receive such acknowledgement.  She, too, cuts a slice, smiling a bit at the growling of his stomach (though she hides it with a turn of her face slightly askance), she's slightly reassured that his hunger is matched by hers and that, at his apparent gentleness, her wariness is melting away to a warm acceptance.  She wedges out another slice and, shaking free a couple of loose seeds, follows suit, leaving the short knife resting with its blade in the melon's husk in her off-hand.  Her eyes widen again and sparkle at the sweet refreshment and she bends her knees and emits a closed-mouth laugh of self-effacing mirth.  "Oh, I wasn't sure if this was the natural state of things out here in the village, but I thought I should apologize anyway," she says, tucking the fruit into one cheek so she can speak with the empty side of her mouth in a slightly less messy way.<br/><br/>She grinned, and shrugged gently, gesturing at the wagon-tracks through the muck, then turned her gaze back to the young warrior's face to watch how he eats in a way she hopes doesn't make him self-conscious, careful not to outright stare but, instead, make casual eye contact and only occasionally glance at how adorable his chin is, and wishing momentarily there was a bit more juice that would accidentally drip down it.  "Well.  This shit-- er," she flushed a bit, squinted and waved her hands frantically, "ahem... this *pit* is where an old farmer's wagon was mired.  Horribly stuck, really.  I had to make a lever to help lift them out.  They had to be a thousand years old each.  Could barely speak, poor old things, don't know how they could load those wagons."  She waved her hands over her dress and face, caked in drying mud that was rapidly becoming a simple paste of dirt and hay.  "They were in quite a hurry to get to their destination, but left the melon and donkey-dung as tokens of thanks.  I was going to find a creek-- fish for lunch, shoot a rabbit or something."  She shrugged again and grinned.  "What about you?  What, ah, is a ssssoldier...?" she hazarded the guess, "orrr, a warrior?  Forgive me, I don't mean offense by getting it wrong, I'm not all that familiar.  But... What's someone like you doing walking alone this way to the township?"