Choice of Romance Reboot

[Phreniphorm]

"Feel free to voice any concerns you might have to me," Charles said to her with a grin. "Just give me a moment." He removed his carbine and left it leaning against a wall. Next he removed the straps carrying his ammunition box and his waistbelt and placed them gently on the ground. He unbuttoned his coat quickly and took it off. It was a odd feeling, to be wearing only his shirt. That coat had been on him ever since he had arrived at the palace. "Here, let me help you. It's quite heavy." He said and gently slipped it onto her shoulders. "I'd help you button it, but..." He said and cut himself off with a short cough. Gesturing to the coat, he just said, "It's quite self-explanatory and you've seen it on me before." Charles could feel his cheeks heat up once again, though he wasn't sure whether it was because of Anwen or because he felt incredibly naked without the coat. There was nothing wrong with his shirt, it was a nice, yellowish-white shirt, but the coat just gave him a sense of security.

He quickly placed everything he had on the ground back on his body, first the waistbelt, then the strap and lastly the carbine behind his shoulder. He grinned as he looked at Anwen. The coat was ill-fitting, but it was to be expected. Every coat was made-to-order for a soldier. They had to look smart, after all. "You look like a proper soldier of Konungariket Sverige." He said and placed his hands on his hips. "It's a bit heavy, but it was made to survive anything the North had to throw at us. It'll probably last longer than the both of our lives combined."

He looked back at the storefronts. It would be nice of him to get Anwen a gift, but, even as a noble, he did not have that much money on him to spend. Well, if this was Sweden, then he would. "It would be my pleasure" He said. "Although much of my currency is still Swedish Kroner. I wonder if anyone here would accept that."

[Ravenwoodwitch]

She chuckled at the prospect, drawing closer to the soldier. The coat was very large on her, but it clothed her in instant warmth, to which she was grateful. Beyond that, it bore his scent, which she found strangely to her liking. Her eyes drifted over to Charles, and did indeed notice how the white fabric hugged at his muscles.

"I don't know; I would assume not," Awen told him. "But the gesture is appreciated all the same. Just imagining the look on their faces..."

"Mayhaps you don't need to, senorita?"

Awen looked up, spying a man standing in the shop door, leaning on the frame. He was a chubby, trailor fellow with a thick beard around his chin, and bushy like eyebrows, each charcoal black. He rubbed his fuzzed chin, turning to look at the Marquis. "I accept royal credit, sir. At least let me get the lady a pair of shoes; no one should be bare-foot when going out and about, don't you think?"