Yeah, she sure had put him on the spot. She knew she shouldn't, but she kind of enjoyed watching him squirm. Trying not to do so too obviously, she pottered around the kitchen, replacing jars on shelves she had added to her stack on the table. His first comment made her flash him a mildly apologetic but mostly mischievious grin from over her shoulder, but she added nothing encouraging. It seemed he wasn't the type to let fly with the first off-the-cuff smart remark that hit him: he was much more of a considerate person, taking his time to gather his thoughts. Seemed a sensible approach considering what came out of people's mouths sometimes. Caprica herself was one generally ready with some back-chat or other, but she often lived to regret it. What she was angling for from Mido was a sense of his first impressions, and she was beginning to get the feeling it wasn't going to be good. Why else would he think it over so hard, than that he wished to find the words to describe her in as polite a way as possible? He could just have said she was as good as the rest, and that would have done it. Now, no matter what he said, she just bet she wasn't going to match up to her mom and the other warriors in his estimation. What did she do around here anyway, other than stock the kitchen and make useless luxury items? She knew her own worth - but only to herself. In the eyes of a pragmatic soldier, perhaps she was just a silly, frivolous kitchen girl. Caprica knew that it was ridiculous to end up getting so paranoid about the opinions of others, but whenever she thought about it, she generally came round to some doom-and-gloom conclusion or other. Recently she had become less anxious, due to making some different friends who seemed to appreciate her, but whenever she came home she started to worry once more as she sat alone by her little wood stove. Aside from family, her days here were fairly empty. That, perhaps was the main reason she was glad of the new horse's company. She turned back to the table, leaning forwards a little dejectedly and gazing into one of the wine bottles, watching bubbles rising and bursting. Her gaze switched back to Mido as he spoke now, one ear lifting towards him, the other remaining firmly at half-mast, as if still expecting the bad news of the gentle let-down he had been composing during his pause. At first it did sound like he was just saying something without meaning anything, trying not to hurt her feelings. Something about her he couldn't put his finger on - but was it in a good or bad way? As his halting speech continued, she felt her eyes widening by the smallest of breadths. For a second, his blue eyes framed by those spectacular markings and the golden hair filled her entire vision. He'd confessed something she had not expected at all, and it was a huge relief that he hadn't been holding back for politeness' sake, but because there was something nice he wanted to say. She beamed at him, shrugging off for now the fact that her only positive trait that had led him to his conclusion was an unspecific something. "Aw, now I really feel special!" she exclaimed. "Wait... does that mean you don't like any of the others?" But then it hit her, perhaps he meant something more by his words. One hand flew to her gris-gris, remembering the runes, and she felt a stab of dismay. If so, she hoped it was just the alcohol talking, but was that really likely after so little of pretty much pure fruit juice? Quite the first impression she must have made. She appreciated him greatly but no more than as a fellow Anatheman and a polite and friendly, easy-going sort of person. They hardly knew each other, though, and no sparks had jumped from his eyes to hers. Caprica knew that this was the kind of wolf she should be looking to socialise with and get to know better. A strong and faithful Anatheman with a calling and a steady-seeming personality, but only time could tell whether his impression on her could grow to be as impressive as hers seemed to have been. "I owe you more booze, compliments like that don't come cheap these days," she finished, pushing the second bottle at him, having already taken her own refill. She thought she would keep the last three back for now; perhaps the dosage of inebriation they could bestow was not really necessary any more: she could make this last half-bottle last, and try not to let the conversation get too deeply involved in the meantime.
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