<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div><br/><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Aislinn Eilir<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Main Street<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Nicodemus / Open<br/><strong>Note:</strong>All things in<em>italics</em>are happening in Aislinn's head.<br/><hr/>The man didn't move out of the way as Aislinn turned and walked straight toward him, though she wasn't at all surprised by that. Even if she had been lucid enough to notice how odd that might be to some, it probably also would have occurred to her that she didn't give much warning that she was going to hug him. For a long moment he seemed to stand there, completely still while she clung to him and introduced herself. The long moments passed with baited breath from him, and a tiny smile from her.<br/><br/>It gave her the moment to hold on to him and to take in things about him others likely never took the time to notice... His smell, the warmth of his skin beneath his clothing, the way his heart beat steadily inside his chest, her ear pressed to the hard planes of his fit form. Only when he disengaged himself from her embrace did he answer her introduction, giving her his name. That small smile that had teased itself at the corners of her mouth slowly spread, becoming wider and more vibrant as he stepped back.<br/><br/>His fingers found the delicate form of her small chin, and with gentle pressure he was lifting her head. She turned and looked up at him at the silent command, her deep blue eyes catching the sunlight and seeming to reflect such a deep shade they seemed nearly purple. Unlike most others he likely met, she met his eyes without a single ounce of fear or shyness, and her smile was as bold as her stare, though both danced with an almost child-like glee. Still, there would be something more in those blue depths... something not quite readable, something deep and knowing.<br/><br/>For a long moment she merely returned his look as he studied her, and then she finally spoke again. "You were following me." It was a blunt statement, delivered with all the honesty of someone either young... or fearless. "But not just you..." she murmured, turning to glance around her, her eyes searching shop windows, alleyways, dark places someone might hide. A thoughtful look crossed her face, but she didn't seem particularly bothered by the idea that someone she couldn't see was following her. Turning to look up at him.<br/><br/>All at once the thoughtful look on her face faded, and her fingers reached up, attempting to gently nudge his glasses further down on his nose so she could see his eyes more clearly. "Hmmm... clover." Her fingers strayed from his glasses then, moving to the ends of his hair, as if to touch it but not quite brushing it. "Flame." Something about the coloring of his eyes, his hair... seemed familiar, like it was pulling at something at the back of her mind, but the feeling never went beyond a strong tugging at her memory.<br/><br/>Frowning, for just a moment she seemed too wrapped up in her own thoughts, her hand slowly returning to her own body, pressing her palm to the flat plane of her stomach for a moment before she spoke suddenly. "Walk with me?" something in her eyes still seemed thoughtful and lost, but her focus was once more on him.