"D'you find it easy enough to blend in, or do they ever seem to get suspicious at all? About that strange woman who lives on the edge of town and keeps to herself?" The words on their own might sound like he's mocking her, but this morning alone has probably taught her that the leprechaun is perennially tongue-in-cheek, incapable of taking things seriously.
And he is genuinely curious about this question. Mad Sweeney manages to blend in well enough himself; he looks like a messy drunkard whenever he's out and about with the mortals, shooting the shit. Nothing about him stands out much, besides his stature.
The sun is rising over the crest of the hills, burning away some of the last of that chilly fog, and they're coming up on some farmhouses. He's on his way back to the inn, he's not going to follow her home, but he does wind up asking:
no subject
And he is genuinely curious about this question. Mad Sweeney manages to blend in well enough himself; he looks like a messy drunkard whenever he's out and about with the mortals, shooting the shit. Nothing about him stands out much, besides his stature.
The sun is rising over the crest of the hills, burning away some of the last of that chilly fog, and they're coming up on some farmhouses. He's on his way back to the inn, he's not going to follow her home, but he does wind up asking:
"One of these yours?"