[... Hayame may be flustered, perhaps flushing, and it may be her instinct to deny that she would doubt them... But Set was not wrong, and in the end, and she cannot pretend that he was just for the sake of her proud or her desperation to be perceived a certain way in order to advance her standing in her world. She had learned early on in life not to trust the words of others, that those who said kind things to her almost never meant to be kind, and so even now... It was an instinct to find a "reason" for why someone would say something touching or sentimental to her, allowing her to dismiss it as insincere or false. So... maybe it was better that he said it sober. Later, when she is (not) alone at night and thinking of what he said... she won't be able to blame it on drink.
He says their destination is his favorite, and she finds that... Did she have a favorite place? Just one? Was she even a good choice, to bring to a place that is so focused upon the arts? She surely-]
I am afraid I am no great patron of the arts... I have only seen the performances my master arranged for Exhibition Day guests...
[... Buyers. The buyers of "horseflesh" who purchased jinba for generals and lords afar. It was just a few times a year, overhearing or watching from afar as a blind lute player sung of heroes past, tumblers put on comedy shows, actors performed tragic loves or dramas, and dancers twirled with fans and bells. She had always imagined... perhaps hoped, that if she were to be sold as a warrior she might be exposed to more of it, like human samurai of class were, but. Until then, she had been focused far more on the "being sold as a warrior" part that was necessary for the rest.
And in Kenos... She had continued to cast herself that way. A warrior. One with no time to see... art. Or shows. Or waste time on... booze and fortune-tellers and smoking? On... things that make her blush even more noticably, when she considers "what's nice and feels good" could mean. ... Had meant. (... Surely he wasn't taking her to a brothel? Or... a part-time brothel???) She has the time it takes to put her laundry back away, to take off her apron, to arm herself, and to lock her door behind her to think if she ought to demure to avoid the potential humiliation of not understanding something else that other "normal people" did...
But she puts her hand in his, instead.]
... I suppose it will be alright as long as you explain things properly.
[She may not know it, or know why he has not attended The Last Dance without one, but... She will be there, a companion on his arm. One who has temporarily run that sickly presence off before... and who would gladly, viciously do so again.
One who also did not know that she was about to find out she was actually an affectionate, somewhat emotional drunk.]
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He says their destination is his favorite, and she finds that... Did she have a favorite place? Just one? Was she even a good choice, to bring to a place that is so focused upon the arts? She surely-]
I am afraid I am no great patron of the arts... I have only seen the performances my master arranged for Exhibition Day guests...
[... Buyers. The buyers of "horseflesh" who purchased jinba for generals and lords afar. It was just a few times a year, overhearing or watching from afar as a blind lute player sung of heroes past, tumblers put on comedy shows, actors performed tragic loves or dramas, and dancers twirled with fans and bells. She had always imagined... perhaps hoped, that if she were to be sold as a warrior she might be exposed to more of it, like human samurai of class were, but. Until then, she had been focused far more on the "being sold as a warrior" part that was necessary for the rest.
And in Kenos... She had continued to cast herself that way. A warrior. One with no time to see... art. Or shows. Or waste time on... booze and fortune-tellers and smoking? On... things that make her blush even more noticably, when she considers "what's nice and feels good" could mean. ... Had meant. (... Surely he wasn't taking her to a brothel? Or... a part-time brothel???) She has the time it takes to put her laundry back away, to take off her apron, to arm herself, and to lock her door behind her to think if she ought to demure to avoid the potential humiliation of not understanding something else that other "normal people" did...
But she puts her hand in his, instead.]
... I suppose it will be alright as long as you explain things properly.
[She may not know it, or know why he has not attended The Last Dance without one, but... She will be there, a companion on his arm. One who has temporarily run that sickly presence off before... and who would gladly, viciously do so again.
One who also did not know that she was about to find out she was actually an affectionate, somewhat emotional drunk.]