Niamh, already overwhelmed by the raucous noise of a bustling environment, startles at the sudden introduction. Her hand shoots upwards to instinctively grip the strap of her quiver, the other twitching by her leather satchel. A moment passes, the man idly maintaining his friendly demeanor while Niamh opens and closes her mouth, the roar of the market rising between them. She furrows her brow, a slight tremor to her words as, hesitantly, she offers an explanation: "... Homesickness."
She clenches her jaw as soon as the reason leaves her, looking off somewhere beyond the man's shoulder as a particular brand of self-consciousness washes hot down her neck.
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