( There's a crease of blond brows as he watches her expression, the way she reads and then turns her eyes to meet him. He isn't sure what to expect, and he wonders briefly if he should have approached this differently. Perhaps said it more politely, introduced himself first, or-
Dimitri can feel some of the tension in his shoulders leave him in relief. He's so used to being looked upon with fear, avoided outright, it feels strange for someone to speak so easily to him. Her tone doesn't bother him. He's used to it as a prince, seeing how nobles and royalty address others as if they're something superior to the people around them. It's not something he's ever particularly understood himself, but there's no reason for him to feel slighted or bothered by it now. Not when she's inviting him closer.
He does hesitate here, though, glancing at the spot beside her as if he doesn't quite believe he's been invited. But he does move after a few seconds. Despite his height or the broad frame, he's surprisingly quiet - moves smoothly to cross the distance separating them. Without his armor, his cloak, or a weapon, he is certainly less intimidating, less threatening, less of a dark, lethal specter bearing down on someone. He folds neatly, if a bit stiffly, beside her. He still hasn't checked his watch, yet. )
My name is Dimitri. ( Five years ago, there would have been more there. A formal title, the full stretch of his name, but now, there's a lingering thought he doesn't know if he'll be able to shake. That he doesn't know if he deserves to be able to call himself a prince for what he's done, that hasn't done enough for his people to confidently refer to himself as such. But he does dip his head in greeting, regardless. ) And yours?
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Dimitri can feel some of the tension in his shoulders leave him in relief. He's so used to being looked upon with fear, avoided outright, it feels strange for someone to speak so easily to him. Her tone doesn't bother him. He's used to it as a prince, seeing how nobles and royalty address others as if they're something superior to the people around them. It's not something he's ever particularly understood himself, but there's no reason for him to feel slighted or bothered by it now. Not when she's inviting him closer.
He does hesitate here, though, glancing at the spot beside her as if he doesn't quite believe he's been invited. But he does move after a few seconds. Despite his height or the broad frame, he's surprisingly quiet - moves smoothly to cross the distance separating them. Without his armor, his cloak, or a weapon, he is certainly less intimidating, less threatening, less of a dark, lethal specter bearing down on someone. He folds neatly, if a bit stiffly, beside her. He still hasn't checked his watch, yet. )
My name is Dimitri. ( Five years ago, there would have been more there. A formal title, the full stretch of his name, but now, there's a lingering thought he doesn't know if he'll be able to shake. That he doesn't know if he deserves to be able to call himself a prince for what he's done, that hasn't done enough for his people to confidently refer to himself as such. But he does dip his head in greeting, regardless. ) And yours?