Tine is quite glad to see the ball be protected by the monastery's knights; it is quite reassuring.
She doesn't know of any legitimate reasons to fear their host, but it would be harder to let her anxiety go if the security was composed purely of strangers.
Still, it's a damn shame so many people that work tirelessly throughout the year are now forced to watch the festivities with a heavy duty upon their shoulders.
As such, when Tine's about to go back from stealing from the buffet, she gets distracted easily by the blue-haired knight standing guard.
"Dame Fiora ! Are you alright? Have you eaten? Do you have breaks to enjoy yourself?"
If she doesn't, there isn't much Tine can do about it, with her unwieldy dress and relative inexperience, she'd make for a poor replacement.
There still has to be something to make this event a bit nicer for someone who's been so kind to her.
She unties the handkerchief to reveal the pastries she has hidden inside.
"Would you like a few? I might have taken too many in the excitement of seeing such variety."
It's a lie; she intends to eat as much as she can within reason; seeing food thrown out after the events hosted in Freege always frustrated her to no end.
"Have you tried this one? It's actually savory with turkese meat and a slightly sour fruit filling -oh."
Something catches her eye.
"I wasn't expecting you to participate in the bracelet game, would you like to trade?"
The half-away reverie Fiora is in is interrupted by a young, concerned voice. Fiora stiffens as she turns, clearly on alert at first heartbeat, ready to intercede danger, but the only danger she spies is that of a tummy ache from eating too many pastries. The smile that comes on her face is faraway, one that doesn’t fully reach her eyes, but one that seems real enough, all the same, genuine and kind. A free hand cradles the crown of Tine’s head, an affectionate pat.
“I’m alright. Thank you, Tine. Don’t worry about me — I wish only to see you enjoy the party, instead,” she tells her, affectionately. Though her gaze appears slightly unfocused and wandering, her voice is present enough.
“I’ll leave you to your meal, but you can have one of my charms.” She won’t tell her she’s refusing the food because of a cold nausea that’s struck her stomach ever since Legault had pulled her from behind the line and onto the floor. Carefully, she unhooks an anchor and exchanges it for one of Tine’s charms, offering it to her with only the slightest tremor to her fingers.
