{ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ }
She nodded as the woman understood the explanation, grateful that she didn’t make an issue or treat it like some horrid calamity. Especially when to Annie it was more a minor inconvenience at most times rather than a major disability. She appreciated that the lady was more focused on her art than her oddity. It was a welcome change from the usual, where she usually felt like a sideshow freak, or like she came from space. There was something oddly comforting about that, and Annie really liked it.
Then again, the woman was British, she’d probably seen or heard of far worse in the war, since it had been so close to the where the action was. With a pang, she wondered if she lost people too, like how Annie had lost her brother James. The might be or might not be royal speaking again had snapped her out of her thoughts and back into the conversation, making her blush at the praise.
The woman definitely knew art, and that too was a welcome relief, seeing that so many women in her circle liked to think that they did but in reality they didn’t know anything. Taking the notepad back, she wrote again, smiling. I love watercolors, they’re my favorite after charcoals and pencils. You must be better than you realize, watercolors aren’t the easiest medium to work in. The lobby is nice for still drawing, there’s a lot of light, although the people I do mostly from imagination, since it’s always in motion.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Mary said dryly, eyebrows arching in humour, “I practiced enough to satisfy my governess, but I’m afraid I never intended to pursue art beyond the necessities.”
Mary’s eyes fell to the young artist and found herself wondering if she had been born mute or if it was the effect of something. Ah, but that was too forward a question for their current situation, even in America! She removed her right glove and offered it to the woman with a charming, well-practiced smile. “I’m Lady Mary Crawley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her title was entirely superfluous to their current situation, but Mary enjoyed the shock, awe, and sometimes respect that followed its reveal, and she was far too set in her ways to stop introducing herself as such simply to put others at ease.
She nodded, then wrote more, smiling at her dry tone of voice.’Still. Even getting the basics of watercolor can be tough. Don’t sell yourself short.’ Annie hated when people did that. In her book if you were talented, you should be proud of it.
She looked up at the British woman with a smile, seeing the question in her eyes, but to Annie’s surprise she didn’t ask it. It must be that British politeness, since Annie’s fellow Americans always loved to ask that. Constantly. To the point that Annie debated putting a permanent not in her notepad to flip to. It’d make things much easier than constantly writing it out and cramping her wrist sometimes. When the woman offered her hand, she took it with a wide smile, writing when it was acceptable to let go of her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Mary. I’m Annie. Lady in gender only.’ She decided to write a joke to make things lighter. Hopefully.
