[ No worries, I'd heard you were on vaycay/hiatus! ♥ ]
Brigitte accepts that massive hand and gives it a firm, enthusiastic shake, not minding (and in all honesty, barely noticing) the griminess. The sootiness and dirt of a forge is familiar to her and almost homey; the Lindholm workshop never seemed quite right unless you were perpetually having to wipe off surfaces and wash your hands of grease that never seemed to go away.
"Nice to meet y—" She was on autopilot, about to parrot off the niceties drummed into her all her life, but Brigitte grinds to an abrupt halt as her brain catches up with her ears. It's the mental equivalent of a jarring record scratch. The name is one thing, that's whatever, she's had friends named Tor, but the incredibly specific epithets and introduction that followed...
"Wait, excuse me." Had she misheard? "Did you say god of thunder and lightning? Is that a nickname, or..."
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Brigitte accepts that massive hand and gives it a firm, enthusiastic shake, not minding (and in all honesty, barely noticing) the griminess. The sootiness and dirt of a forge is familiar to her and almost homey; the Lindholm workshop never seemed quite right unless you were perpetually having to wipe off surfaces and wash your hands of grease that never seemed to go away.
"Nice to meet y—" She was on autopilot, about to parrot off the niceties drummed into her all her life, but Brigitte grinds to an abrupt halt as her brain catches up with her ears. It's the mental equivalent of a jarring record scratch. The name is one thing, that's whatever, she's had friends named Tor, but the incredibly specific epithets and introduction that followed...
"Wait, excuse me." Had she misheard? "Did you say god of thunder and lightning? Is that a nickname, or..."