Though her surface wounds had largely healed, Jael still found herself limping by the end of a long day. Does she have a habit of overdoing things? Yes. The too much gene is common in her kind, and this is no different. Trying to conceal the stiffness, the pain, gets old though. As long as she's fairly sure she's alone, Jael allows the limp. There's no harm in it. She'd spent the bulk of the afternoon working on the last stages of scrubbing the empty pool clean, and it was looking just about ready for the livestock they didn't have yet. The work was tiring, and she'd needed a good roll around in the sea after, but it was fulfilling work. Jael thrives when she has a job, after all.
Still soaking wet and freshly (mostly) free of grime, Jael could smell something on the evening breeze. Campfire, predominantly. Gil too, along with something else. Something with a little more burn. Her head picking up, the girl made her way farther down the beach, following the source of the scent. Concealing the limp a bit better (though too tired to fight it off entirely), Jael can't help herself. A moth to a flame, or something like that. Her gaze gentle as she approaches, though her steps were quiet on the sand.
"Private party, or do you have space for me?" She approaches with a little smile, the orange glow of the fire reflecting in her opalescent gaze. Pausing just far enough away... though he could send her away, Jael hopes he wouldn't. Time alone is precious, especially for a man of his station. Still, she gives a little smile, a little tilt to her head. Maybe she really was a moth to flame.
Professor
