Welcome to Gaia! ::

There's nothing surprising at all about such a thing- it's simply that a complete ice queen liking the cold is less so. Though a man so desperate for female company must be pitied.

"Hmph," Alva vocalizes with amusement. "There's plenty of things I don't complain about; you're simply so unfortunate as to consist of many things that I do complain about."

The man's blatant reaction illicits a small laugh out of the woman. Flexing the fingers of her left hand in such a way that the joints crack, she responds, "Oh, the same things that all depraved men look at. Your reaction to my statement was an obvious confirmation." She pauses a quick moment to take another bite, and then says, "To be honest, I have seen men half your age who are better at concealing where they are pointing their eyes."

"Oh, it can't be said that I hate you just yet, though I do certainly dislike you," the woman quips in response. "I tend to detest people in general, until they give good reason for me not to... as for your second question, I didn't feel I should turn down an opportunity for decent food, and I wished to see if I could find out more about you."

How did she know what he was looking at? Well, maybe because it was insanely obvious, silly man. Alva smirks as she listens to Alphonse trying feebly to wriggle out of this situation. "My hands, you say?" she says, cracking the joints of her left hand again and looking at it in mock appraisal. "I doubt you would find mine admirable; they aren't exactly a woman's hands-" which is true: her fingers are large and undainty, and would probably be ungainly if she didn't know how to use them as well as she can- "and I've gathered that you have a stubbornly strict set of standards concerning how a woman should be. Regardless, though, your face is a very impressive shade of red right now, which suggests that you find my hands appealing in some way. I'm almost inclined to ask what you think my hands might be good for."

"I prefer actual interaction over picking away at someone with question after question. The latter can get very tiring," Alva says, her voice with a tone that suggests even thinking about such a method makes her feel impatient. Besides, the former way is much more entertaining.

This woman's mood and body language is practically the complete opposite of Moreau's- her stance overall is relaxed, her cheek rests on the knuckles of her left hand while her right idly swirls around her cup, and her face displays a raised eyebrow and a highly amused, sadistic smirk. Despite the fact that she's in undesirable company, she's clearly quite enjoying herself.

"I wouldn't have expected you to answer, anyway," she quips- a response open to interpretation. Is it because she knows the man is just that stubborn, or is it because she knows the man doesn't want to reveal exactly what he is thinking about, despite it being written all over his tomato-colored face?

"Indeed," the woman chuckles, enjoying every single glorious second of this victory over the man sitting across her. She obviously likes winning. A lot.

"Something else, hmm?" she muses. "Do you have any suggestions? I'm not one to pick subjects out of the air at random..." Alva's actually considering returning to a more pleasant conversation now that Moreau has more or less resigned to his defeat.

Suddenly, she laughs. "Oh, this is amusing... we don't know each other's names yet, do we?" Her head shakes slowly in amusement at this. "And normally an introduction is the first thing that happens, though I daresay our initial meeting has been far from normal." An almost geniune smile graces her features. "Alva Borghild."

"Alphonse, hmmm..." she says the name experimentally, emphasizing in a very ambiguous tone- does she like the name, or is she just being sarcastic again? "Well, Alphonse, it's... a pleasure to meet you, but I believe I may have overstayed my welcome in this little house of yours." Indeed, her meal is as finished as it's going to get.

Alva smirks knowingly. "And I'm sure you'd sooner have me stop plaguing you with my presence than stay. Shall we get me a room so you don't have to deal with me for a while?"

Well, that's quite an excuse, if nothing else... Alva raises her eyebrow in intrigue- there is plenty that she can say right now, but decides to spare the man and simply says "...Of course." with a slow nod. However, there are plenty of curiosities in her mind that will take a while to mute.

She decides to use this time to gather up her cello and carefully return it to its case. Looking back at Alphonse, she says with a wide smile, "You have had quite a day, especially with someone like me taking up part of it. If you think I can find the boarding house myself, I'd be more than willing to leave. Just tell me how to get there, and this wretched harpy will get out of your house."

Alva turns around from gathering her cello right at the moment when Alphonse stands up. She unintentionally catches a glance that confirms her suspicions, but manages to glide over the sight as if she had seen nothing out of the ordinary.

Though this little catch of notice manages to make even more thoughts stir in her head, some of which are slightly unsettling.

"Honestly, I don't mind walking around at night. I've had to navigate in blizzards where it's impossible to see before, so I doubt a bit of darkness would be that much trouble." Picking up her cello case (and cropwhip; can't forget that!) and walking over to open the door and pick up her luggage, she concludes, "But if you insist, go right ahead."