"Yeah? You stashing a flash in one of those ruffles?" Carmilla inquires with a perfectly shaped brow. Look, she appreciates the moxy, though honestly she would probably avoid drinking at one of these shin-digs. She isn't confident enough about her standing here nor her ability to handle alcohol in a newly humanized body.
"Oh," she muses, going right back to pushing her salad around her plate. Perhaps there should have been more astonishment or bewilderment there, but her sister is from the 1700s, so she's used to ageless and endless. She's at least used to magical and ridiculous shenanigans, which would have to be involved with a sudden transplant of ancient cultures into a sleepy stepford in California.
Carmilla is fittingly dressed, though she's less inclined to smile and laugh to blend in. It's not to say she can't. She just doesn't want to. "It's noodles with stuffing inside, like a ... shui jaio? Only they put a tomato sauce on it."
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"Oh," she muses, going right back to pushing her salad around her plate. Perhaps there should have been more astonishment or bewilderment there, but her sister is from the 1700s, so she's used to ageless and endless. She's at least used to magical and ridiculous shenanigans, which would have to be involved with a sudden transplant of ancient cultures into a sleepy stepford in California.
Carmilla is fittingly dressed, though she's less inclined to smile and laugh to blend in. It's not to say she can't. She just doesn't want to. "It's noodles with stuffing inside, like a ... shui jaio? Only they put a tomato sauce on it."