It's always funny to see Bartimaeus in forms like that. She sometimes wonders what it means when he goes drab and little. Most of the time, he's so ridiculously focused on looking powerful and impressive, picking his guises to strike awe into the hearts of onlookers. Like that absurd sphinx - honestly, he probably could have made it another hundred miles if he hadn't been so focused on ensuring that the helmet was perfectly gleaming and gorgeous. It must have taken quite a lot of mental energy. If she were in a situation like that, she'd absolutely give no thought whatsoever to her appearance, as she's quite above common vanity of that sort, thanks.
She tugs her tunic back into place and adjusts her hair as she straightens up. Her resilience is, no doubt, less than pleasant for him, so she slips him instead into her breast pocket. Close enough that they can chat, but sheltered from her skin and from the world around them.
"Well, then," she says, "I do quite appreciate you taking the slow route. Not least because the view was quite lovely." She uses a single finger to stroke him gently where he's nestled.
She's a little weary from the journey, but in decent enough condition that she can stride towards the village at reasonable speed. "Now, I'll need you to be my translator, if you don't mind. Doubt any of these people speak English. And do it subtly, if you please, I'd sooner not have any of these poor folks getting nervous about demons and all that. How do I ask for - oh - I suppose something with apples in it would be nice. One of those turnover-type things?"
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She tugs her tunic back into place and adjusts her hair as she straightens up. Her resilience is, no doubt, less than pleasant for him, so she slips him instead into her breast pocket. Close enough that they can chat, but sheltered from her skin and from the world around them.
"Well, then," she says, "I do quite appreciate you taking the slow route. Not least because the view was quite lovely." She uses a single finger to stroke him gently where he's nestled.
She's a little weary from the journey, but in decent enough condition that she can stride towards the village at reasonable speed. "Now, I'll need you to be my translator, if you don't mind. Doubt any of these people speak English. And do it subtly, if you please, I'd sooner not have any of these poor folks getting nervous about demons and all that. How do I ask for - oh - I suppose something with apples in it would be nice. One of those turnover-type things?"