Inigo stares at the man, like he's unsure of what to even say in response to something like that. His shyness is overwhelming, swallowing his heart whole at the moment, like a deer staring straight into the headlights of a truck.
Maybe the only thing he can do now - even as his brain momentarily shuts down - is answer the question he's being asked.
"Um, my.. my mother. My mother was a dancer." About as professional of one as you can get in medieval times, anyway. "She taught me when I was younger.."
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Inigo stares at the man, like he's unsure of what to even say in response to something like that. His shyness is overwhelming, swallowing his heart whole at the moment, like a deer staring straight into the headlights of a truck.
Maybe the only thing he can do now - even as his brain momentarily shuts down - is answer the question he's being asked.
"Um, my.. my mother. My mother was a dancer." About as professional of one as you can get in medieval times, anyway. "She taught me when I was younger.."