Taking one’s hat off one’s head upon entering a building was a habit long ingrained in Imogen, and far too deeply at that to be ignored or skipped over, regardless of how uncomfortable or out-of-her-ease she happened to be.<br/><br/>Which, as she stepped into the teahouse and automatically tucked her hat under one arm, she admitted was quite a bit.<br/><br/>She had heard good things about this place, and at first glance, it at least looked like what had been talked about. This whole ‘spending time on land’ malarky was getting boring, so when a couple of her ‘saltier’ old business acquaintances had been discussing what they’d do if they’d made their fortunes and this place’s name came up, she couldn’t help but be intruiged.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, while intruige may have carried her across the threshold, it did not do anything to indicate what the etiquette was in a place like this. Did she wander until she found something she liked, or was it a case of waiting to be waited on?<br/><br/>For one horrifying moment, she actually felt an urge to dither in the entrance way – something most uncharacteristic for her – so she strode into what appeared to be a very elegantly decorated common room, even if some of the ornaments were a tad too floral for her tastes.<br/><br/>At a lack of what else to do, she cleared her throat rather sharply, and stood in her normal not-quite-at-attention posture, to see whether anyone would appear to attend her.