Welcome to Gaia! ::

Pink eyes widening, Galatea shook her head and flushed more. "I don't want to trouble you, Hadrian," she replied. "It's my own fault that I'm not done yet. But... I'm glad you like it. It isn't very pretty but it is solid." Her free hand reached out to touch the plastic as if to demonstrate.

"And that is why we have schedules. It helps us plan better." But the tension in her shoulders had eased and Galatea again gave him one of her faint smiles. Then she tugged gently on his hand before releasing and stepping through the finished door. "It took me a while to calculate how much space I would need."

Judging by the generous size of the square, it looked like she was calculating for a feien-sized rave party with room to spare.

There was a long moment of hesitation at his question and then, slowly, Galatea turned back to look at him. She rubbed two fingers of her right hand against the inside of her left wrist, apparantly a sign that she was self-concious and a bit embarrassed. "... I guessed in the end," she admitted quietly.

Galatea watched him struggling to bite back the laughter with wide eyes. The look on her face, had she been any other girl, could have been easily interpreted as hurt. This was Galatea, though, and it could be excused as confused and concerned since it so far seemed unlikely that she had any proper sense of self or ego which could be dinged. When she bit down on her lower lip, on the other hand, the image shifted a bit and there was a moment where he thought she was hurt.

Then the wry smile reappeared and she ducked her head. "I suppose I didn't plan so well, after all," she admitted sheepishly. "But I like to think that guests will visit and I will need the room." Half-lifting her head again, she regarded him from under her eyelashes. "You would come if I invite you, won't you?"

"I don't... Sleep very well if I'm cramped," Galatea admitted, eyes still half-lowered. "I have nightmares."

After admitting such private information, though, she again fidgeted in embarrassment. Not to mention, she was probably boring him out of his mind. What kind of hostess, what kind of... friend was she? Lifting her head and half-hugging herself, the dark-haired feien made herself meet his warm eyes straight-on. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "You don't particularly care about that silly stuff. Would you, um, like to see the blueprints? Or are you hungry?"

Friends. The thought made her smile a bit, demure and pink-cheeked, for a moment before she boldly reached out to once more touch Hadrian's hand. "I keep them in my desk," she told him, unsure of what to say to either his concern or declaration and thus retreating to the secondary conversation of design. "Which is outside yet. Please follow me?" That said, she turned on her heel and padded back "outside" her house-in-progress.

"This." Pointing, Galatea indicated another matchbox balanced atop two small spools that had been emptied of their thread. A smaller one, more like a bobbin for a sewing machine than a proper spool, sat in front of the arrangement to serve as her chair. Flitting over, Galatea struggled awkwardly to get a grip on the edge of the inner box and then, hold firm, she pulled hard and it slid out easily. Tucked within were sheets of paper covered with neat, precise pictures and words. A little piece of flannel was wrapped into a cylinder beside them - her version of a pencil case for her precious graphite sticks.

Reaching inside, she lifted out the first few sheets of paper and set them on top of the matchbox. Then she moved to offer him the "chair". "Would you like to sit down, si - Hadrian?"