Greta's awareness of their surroundings has been heightened by the earlier unpleasantness, and she keeps a weather eye out for trouble as they walk even as she makes cheerful conversation with her friend. It occurs to her, in retrospect, that strange men may have directed rude comments her way in the past - she's heard things in passing and ignored or dismissed them, assuming they couldn't possibly have been aimed toward her, but now she realizes they might have been. The additional knowledge that it could escalate to grabbing her is downright chilling. Back home, that's the sort of trouble you could expect if you frequented seedy pubs at unwholesome hours, not something that might happen on the street in broad daylight.
And she, at least, has two working arms with which to fend off an attacker. What would Iman have done if no one had been there to come to her defense? Survived, certainly - she is brave and capable regardless of how many arms she has at her disposal, and she doubtless would have torn into that man herself if Greta hadn't beaten her to it. But it would have been frightening, and she hates the thought of men harassing her friend for no reason when she's having a hard enough time as it is.
But it's not just men that are the problem. They're getting some unfriendly looks from women, too. Greta sees them, now, and though she tries not to let on that she's noticed, she can't help wondering if they were always there, or if they're a more recent development. More than that, she wonders what on earth these people are finding so dratted objectionable. Can they tell she and Iman are Rifties? As if either of them can help that. It makes her want to pull Iman closer, to puff up like a broody hen and hide her friend from such needlessly judgmental looks, but she suspects that wouldn't actually help matters.
She really dislikes this city, sometimes.
It's a testament to how distracted she is that when Iman offers to get the door and then doesn't move, Greta feels a stab of genuine bafflement as to why her friend's not reaching for it. She can see that Iman is thrown, too, and then it hits her - she just forgot, they both did, oh no - and a stricken expression flits across Greta's face before she can suppress it. She ducks her head, hoping Iman didn't see, and shifts the groceries to her hip, freeing up a hand to rummage through her bag for her keys.
"Here we are," she says, fishing them out and handing them over.
no subject
And she, at least, has two working arms with which to fend off an attacker. What would Iman have done if no one had been there to come to her defense? Survived, certainly - she is brave and capable regardless of how many arms she has at her disposal, and she doubtless would have torn into that man herself if Greta hadn't beaten her to it. But it would have been frightening, and she hates the thought of men harassing her friend for no reason when she's having a hard enough time as it is.
But it's not just men that are the problem. They're getting some unfriendly looks from women, too. Greta sees them, now, and though she tries not to let on that she's noticed, she can't help wondering if they were always there, or if they're a more recent development. More than that, she wonders what on earth these people are finding so dratted objectionable. Can they tell she and Iman are Rifties? As if either of them can help that. It makes her want to pull Iman closer, to puff up like a broody hen and hide her friend from such needlessly judgmental looks, but she suspects that wouldn't actually help matters.
She really dislikes this city, sometimes.
It's a testament to how distracted she is that when Iman offers to get the door and then doesn't move, Greta feels a stab of genuine bafflement as to why her friend's not reaching for it. She can see that Iman is thrown, too, and then it hits her - she just forgot, they both did, oh no - and a stricken expression flits across Greta's face before she can suppress it. She ducks her head, hoping Iman didn't see, and shifts the groceries to her hip, freeing up a hand to rummage through her bag for her keys.
"Here we are," she says, fishing them out and handing them over.