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It is fortunate that Atlanta’s residence turns out not to be far from our last destination, limiting my exposure to Midgard’s public transportation.
It is even more fortunate that, according to her, there is nobody there, as her mother has been away since yesterday, and might not be back until at least three days hence. – I do not know yet of any protocol dealing with being a houseguest in a common Midgardian’s private residence, which I must employ if her mother is there. The ignorance might lead to me being impolite or crass by accidence, and I would hate it.
Well, given the size, style and outward quality of the house and grounds, “common Midgardian” might not be apt to describe Atlanta’s family. In Asgard, they could have been of minor nobility.
Interestingly enough, Atlanta does not formally welcome me once we are on the yard in front of the residence, nor as we enter the house proper past the thick, well-polished wooden front door. Instead, she spreads her hands in the universal sign of welcome as we arrive at her bedroom. – And is it not a sputter-worthy moment, to be invited right to a woman’s bedroom on first acquaintance!