[His eyes follow the direction of her fingers until they come to rest on the crutch, then sweep for the first time over her thin legs, her deformed feet. It's a dismissive glance, however, and if he feels any shock or surprise over her condition it doesn't register in his face. Instead, he merely moves to do as he's asked, reaching for the crutch whilst she continues speaking.
It doesn't go unnoticed, that use of the word told, and although he follows her lead and lets it pass by unremarked upon, it manages to snag briefly at his interest. Something to be remembered, perhaps-- familiarity appears to be something he'll find little of here, and there's the possibility that it ought to be held onto when it's presented to him.
He moves closer to her, holds out the crutch, sliding smoothly into his own dialect to match her as best he can-- it's not the same, but again there's enough familiarity in the sound of it that he finds it vaguely reassuring.]
Well, then. It's a pleasure, Miss Sullivan.
[A brief pause-- her struggles are clear enough to him.]
no subject
It doesn't go unnoticed, that use of the word told, and although he follows her lead and lets it pass by unremarked upon, it manages to snag briefly at his interest. Something to be remembered, perhaps-- familiarity appears to be something he'll find little of here, and there's the possibility that it ought to be held onto when it's presented to him.
He moves closer to her, holds out the crutch, sliding smoothly into his own dialect to match her as best he can-- it's not the same, but again there's enough familiarity in the sound of it that he finds it vaguely reassuring.]
Well, then. It's a pleasure, Miss Sullivan.
[A brief pause-- her struggles are clear enough to him.]
Perhaps you'll allow me to assist you.