[The art of love? Her fair face? It had been a plethora of compliments compacted into one swooping moment where Eirik really had no idea where to begin. Gloss over what he said, perhaps? Play the characteristically modest card? Easily grow flustered and just remain speechless for a few moments longer? Any of those would have done, and easily too.

Finally she settled for tipping her head to the side and offering something of a half-bow.]

Inigo it is, then? This 'fair face,' you so kindly titled it as, is Eirik. [She motioned to herself indicatively.] I didn't mean to interrupt whatever it was you were... doing.