He chuckled, mostly at her remark regarding the size of his head, assuming she was talking figuratively. "It is pretty big, ain't it?" he said with a grin, not really expecting an answer. "'Spect you'll wanna redecorate," he teased, not forgetting that part of the reason for this trip was an impromptu wedding of convenience. If it turned out that love blossomed between them, who was he to argue"

"If you mean decent beddin', then yes," she laughed quietly, nudging his elbow as the buggy headed off down the road away from Oakham Mount and back toward the city. "Don't see as I'd make too many changes otherwise, unless you've nothin' of color at all to brighten the place."

"There's plenty of color, so long as you like brown," he replied, that teasing grin on his face. In all truth, he hadn't done much in the way of decorating. He didn't spend all that much time there, after all, and he'd never had any reason to worry about what it looked like. It was clean, anyway, and warm and dry, and that was all that really mattered to him.

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him. "Aye, and I'll bet you've never heard of curtains, either," she teased him in return. They were starting out friendly, that was a good feeling. She felt safe around Sam, even after such a short acquaintance, not at all scared of being his wife. A little scared of what came with being a wife, but that wasn't really his fault. It wasn't like she didn't know how it worked; living in a single room with your entire family will give you insight into marital relations fairly early in life. "I'll not make changes that won't make your life better."

"Oh, hell ....Far as the cabin goes, you can do as you like. Only thing that's off-limits is my guns. I don't recommend you ..." He trailed off as a thought came to mind. "I reckon you don't know how to shoot," he said, turning to her with a questioning look on his face.

She shook her head. "First gun I ever saw was on your hip," she pointed out with a shrug. "Not much call for them on the farms, and the landowners use these rifles that can take down birds in flight. Back home, if you've a problem with someone, you use your fists, but you don't want to kill them."

"I ain't never killed nobody in my whole life, but this ain't Ireland, Bridget, and I ain't gonna let Chad Dobson hurt you, if I can help it." He didn't mention that the man had threatened to kill him or what he'd threatened to do to her. It was enough for her to know that if push came to shove, he'd do whatever was necessary to protect her.

Swaying with the movement of the buggy, Bridget smiled as he said her name for the first time, easing along the seat to loop her arm through his, like a sweetheart should. "I'm not so helpless," she promised him. "I'd fight back. Grew up third of eight, I learned how to hold my own early on. I wouldn't win without you, but I'd give him bruises to slow him down when he went for you."

The more she told him about her history, the more curious he became, turning to look at her a moment as she looped her arm through his before turning back to the road. "So, what happened?" She'd told him a little of her story, but not all of it, it seemed. "What happened to your family?" he asked, as gently as he could. He didn't want to upset her, but he was curious why she'd decided to leave Ireland. Why was she going to Chicago' Was she going to join her family there, or was it something else?

"Ah, lots of things," she said with a shrug. Though she had loved her family, the loss of them had made her a little numb to the sensation of reliving it as she shared her story. "Ma died givin' birth to the youngest when I was eleven, left me and Mary and John to look after the little ones. Da wasn't much of a father - he drank himself to death a few years back. John joined the British Navy, haven't seen him in about five years; Mary got married, moved to Belfast with her husband. Patrick's a stoker with the White Star Line - the Olympic, not the ship I was on. James was hit by one o' those horrible motorcar things when he was a wee lad, didn't last long after. Maurice was sent to Australia when he was caught stealin'; Kate got a good place in service in Cork; wee Rory caught the typhus. He died about a year ago, and then it was just me."

She sighed, resting her cheek against his shoulder as she spoke. "I used up all my savin's to buy a berth on Titanic - my mother's brother went out to America when she was just a girl, settled himself in Chicago. I had his address, thought I should go and try and start a new life for myself. There was nothin' left in Mayo for me."

Sam frowned, listening quietly while she told him her story, his heart aching for her. It wasn't a story with a happy ending, though it sounded like at least a few of her siblings had turned out all right, and though she hadn't made it to Chicago, she had arrived in Rhy'Din safe and sound, thanks to the Nexus. His brows lifted at the mention of the Titanic - quite possibly the most famous shipwreck of all time, at least, as far as Terran history was concerned. He could only imagine the terror she'd felt as the ship slowly sank into the sea. Now that he knew the whole story, he wasn't so sure anymore that she could go back, even if she wanted to. Going back might find her right back there again, at that point in time where the Nexus plucked her up, and he couldn't say whether she'd have lived or died. "I'm sorry about your family, but I ain't gonna lie to you. I'm glad you're here." Had he actually said that out loud" It seemed he had, and to his own surprise, he actually meant it.

"Everyone goes their own way," she mused thoughtfully. "Without Ma to hold us together, we were all lookin' to get away from Da. I stayed for the little'uns." She looked up at him, surprised and pleased with his confession. "I can't say I'm not glad to be here myself," she admitted, very nearly managing to look shy for a moment. But it really didn't come naturally to her; she was a bold spirit at heart. "If I'd met you in Mayo, I wouldn't have took ship at all."

"I know I said you could go back if you want to, but I ain't so sure that's true," he told her quietly. Then again, she didn't seem to want to go back. He'd mentioned it a few times already and each time, she'd declined. "If you'd met me in Mayo, I wouldn't be who I am," he added. Rhy'Din had made him who he was, and there was no changing it.

"There's nothin' to go back to," she said quietly. "No life in Ireland, no life in America. I was startin' fresh; don't see why it shouldn't be here, with you." She smiled faintly at his comment on his own past. "Aye, I know. But you'd still be a handsome man, and I'd still have my head turned by you. Might not be romance, but I'd rather start a marriage in friendship than out of need."

"I'd be grateful for friendship," he told her, repeating what he'd said the night before, though perhaps in not so many words. It had only been a day, after all. He couldn't very well expect her to fall in love with him already, if she ever did.

"It'll be a true marriage," she told him in return. "I may have agreed fast, but that doesn't mean I don't know what to expect. I can't deny bein' curious about it. The noises my parents made never sounded all that much fun, but Mary said it was wonderful."

"You ain't never been with a man, have you?" he asked, looking her over a moment. He wasn't sure why he was asking when the answer to his question seemed obvious enough. If she was curious about what the most private moments between a man and a woman, then it was probable she had never experienced it for herself. "I ain't sure I'd call it wonderful. It can be fun with the right partner." He paused in thought a moment before continuing. "I reckon it's different with someone you love."

She shook her head, not really all that embarrassed by her lack of experience. "Got close once," she told him. "Guess you'd call him a childhood sweetheart. Got down to my drawers, but his da found us. Thrashed the both of us for it, too." She snickered softly at the memory. "He wouldn't even look at me after. He got married a couple of weeks later; never even told me he was engaged when he wanted hands on my ducks."

Oddly, the question completely stumped her. She'd never been in a position to choose what she ate for her breakfast, and in any case, when she'd been providing breakfast, it had usually consisted of sawdust bread and cheap butter, or gritty porridge. "I ....don't know," she managed eventually. "What do people usually eat for breakfast around here" Seems like there's more choice than I'm used to."

"That ain't what I asked," he said, looking amused, even as he maneuvered the carriage through the narrow cobbled streets of Rhy'Din proper. "If you could eat anything you wanted, what would it be?"

"Anythin' at all?" Bridget smirked, not even a little embarrassed by the fact that she knew the answer to this straight away. "Roast beef and parsnips, potatoes and gravy, and toffee apples." Rich, filling, and way out of her range of experience.

He laughed at her suggestion, realizing he should have expected as much. "You eat that for breakfast and you're gonna be sick," he told her, as he pulled the carriage to a halt to await a stablehand. "Do you trust me?" he asked, eyes bright with mischief.

"I'm marryin' you, of course I trust you, idjit," she laughed back at him, knowing she may have made a bit of a fool of herself with her prompt answer to his former question. "O'course, askin' me seems like you're plannin' on somethin' wicked."

"Not 'til after the wedding," he teased, giving her a wink, a playful grin on his face. He turned away momentarily to hand the reins to a stablehand, taking a moment to offer a brief lecture on the care of the horses and carriage, before hopping out of the carriage and offering her a hand.

If he'd been hoping for a blush, what he got was a laughing grin and a wink in answer for his tease. She waited patiently as he spoke to the handler, sliding across the seat to take his hand and clamber down with decidedly more dignity than she'd had getting up there in the first place. "Oof, I forgot how tall you were," she chuckled, tilting her head back to look up at him, very merry in her way as she drew her arm through his. "After you, love."

In the end, she didn't have to do much clambering as he set his hands against her waist and lifted her easily from the carriage to set her on the ground. "Have I shrunk since this morning?" he asked, smirking in amusement at the way she'd phrased that, his brows arching at the term of endearment. "Yes, ma'am," he told her, tipping his hat, before taking her arm to lead the way away from the livery in the direction of the Marketplace, which was already teeming with people.

"Oh, very funny," she drawled teasingly, rolling her eyes at him even as he drew her away from the stables and into the moving collection of people out and about. Despite the early hour, she could see vendors setting up stalls in the wide marketplace, shop owners beginning to open up for the day. It was fascinating to her, especially with the myriad collection of technology and races that were on display. "That woman is blue," she whispered to Sam, trying not to point. But the woman was blue!

Sam chuckled quietly when she pointed out the blue woman. "Wait 'til you see your first dragon," he murmured back, wondering if the people at the Welcome Center hadn't done their job warning newcomers what to expect. Arm in arm, he led her into the Marketplace, the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing leading his nose and making his stomach grumble.

"Dragons aren't real," she shook her head, smiling. The Welcome Center had done their best, but experiencing Rhy'Din was the only way for a lot of people to get their heads around just how fantastical a place it was. "You may as well be sayin' that the Small Folk are real, and I know they're just stories for children."

"So are women with blue skin," Sam replied, that smirk still on his face. "Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you," he told her, hoping she wouldn't be too shocked the first time she saw something from out of a fairytale. He tilted his hat to shield his eyes from the sun, more out of habit than necessity, as he led her through waking streets of the Marketplace.

Bridget rolled her eyes, not prepared to believe that fairies were real, despite all the evidence around her that suggested they might well be. A car beeped its horn as they passed it, and she almost jumped out of her skin, leaping sideways into Sam as though she was about to be attacked. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Horseless carriage," he replied, pulling her out of the way. He might have shouted something rude at the driver, but he was already gone. "What they call an automobile," he explained. "Reckon they didn't tell you about them at the Welcome Center."

"That's a motorcar?" she asked, pointing at the sleek machine in astonishment. The only automobiles she'd ever seen were considered in this day and age to be rare and precious, truly vintage. "It's so ....ugly."

He chuckled at her remark as he led her onward to a little coffeeshop he knew of - or that his nose knew of, anyway. "They ain't all like that," he said, wondering how much he should tell her. If he remembered his Terran history, she came from a time when machines were just starting to change the way people lived.

She grimaced at the car - probably offending the driver, but she hadn't noticed him - and turned her eyes forward as Sam drew her into a coffeeshop. She didn't recognize the bitter smell in the air at all, utterly unfamiliar with coffee even as a concept. "I've a lot to learn, haven't I?" she said thoughtfully. "Should probably learn how to read and write more than my own name."

"Oh," he said, frowning thoughtfully at that. He hadn't considered that she might not know how to read or write. "I can teach you, if you want," he volunteered. Given the privacy of his cabin, no one need know he was teaching her, so long as no one asked her to read or write anything.

"Would you?" Her eyes widened hopefully as she looked up at him, truly delighted to learn that he knew something like that well enough to teach her. "I can read, sort of, but it takes a lot of time. And I can't spell anythin' but Bridget properly."

He smiled, seeing how happy such a simple thing as teaching her to read and write seemed to make her. It would take time and it might not be easy, but it would be worthwhile. "I ain't got much time for it no more, but I used to like reading when I was a boy." And speaking of reading, there was a menu scrawled on a chalkboard near the counter telling them what was available for breakfast this morning. "Still trust me?" he whispered as they got closer.

Reassured that he wasn't going to think less of her for having a very low level of education, Bridget looked up at Sam as he whispered to her. "O'course I do," she whispered back, hugging his arm. "Just don't expect me to read that, or we'll be here all day."

He smiled reassuringly and patted her arm, drawing her forward to find a place in line so that they could order. Once they reached the counter, he placed an order for two plates of flapjacks, scrambled eggs, and sausage, along with a cup of tea for her and coffee for him. That done, he paid for both meals and led her to a table out of the way of traffic.

It was certainly a meal she had never had before. The combination of tastes was more than enough to keep her silent while she was eating, pausing only to ask what it was she was consuming before digging in with renewed enthusiasm. Presented with a meal that contained meat was a treat for her, too. Sam was treated to how quickly his soon-to-be wife could put away a large plate of food, eating as though it might be taken away from her at any moment. But despite her speed, she was mature enough to linger over her tea, making conversation with him as outside the coffeeshop the Marketplace really came alive for the day.

"Wearing everything you've got to your name, honey?" the woman asked sympathetically.

Bridget shifted, glancing down at the ill-fitting dress she was wearing. "The shoes're mine," she said reluctantly.

The storekeeper smiled. "Well, don't you worry," she said, reaching out to take Bridget's hand. "We'll get you sorted out with the basics, and send you on your way looking more yourself. I'll add it to the Oakham Mount account."

Bridget looked back at Sam a little worriedly as she was pulled away from his side. "You're sure you won't be long?" she asked him, hoping like hell she wasn't about to be bullied into spending a stupid amount of money that wasn't even hers to spend.

"I won't be long," he assured her with a smile, as her fingers slid away from his. He debated telling the shop clerk that they were getting married later, but thought better of it. He didn't want to take too much advantage of Jem's generosity, and neither of them needed to be dressed to the nines in order to get married. "Don't you worry none. Everything's gonna be just fine."

"I'll look after her," the clerk promised with a smile, wrapping her arm through Bridget's. The redhead was torn between delight at being allowed to wear new clothes, and concern at being out of sight of Sam, but she was overruled here. "Give us an hour or so?" the clerk suggested to Sam. "I won't let her leave without you."

Sam nodded his head in agreement. He didn't think he'd need more than an hour or so, give or take. "Much obliged, ma'am. I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised again, with a wink at Bridget, just because, before he headed back out.

And what an hour it was. After an initial argument over getting her out of the clothing she was already wearing, Bridget finally gave in to the clerk's whims and began to enjoy herself. She'd never been in a situation like this before, and though she made herself very clear about only buying what she absolutely needed, she did let herself try on a very pretty ballgown just for the sheer fun of it. Most of the time was spent fitting the chosen clothing to her body - something else that was new to the working class girl, who had worn ill-fitting clothes all her life. It was an education to be introduced to magic this way, but even she couldn't argue with the results.

By the time the clerk was done, Bridget was in possession of two shifts, three shirts, two skirts, and several pairs of stockings, all wrapped in brightly colored paper and tied with string. The clerk had refused to let her leave wearing what she had entered in, and instead, Bridget found herself wearing a neat little outfit of short-sleeved shirt so pale pink it was only a blush, gray skirt, and light shawl, all over a brand new shift that was softer than anything she had ever worn against her skin before. She felt brand new herself, giggling with delight as she pinned her hat back into place over her braided bun, anxious to see what Sam thought of her transformation.

Sam hadn't bothered to instruct the woman regarding shoes, though he did have it in mind to bring Bridget back for a new pair once he saved a little more money. As for himself, he spent the hour apart shopping for something very special, hoping to surprise her. When he returned, he was carrying a small wrapped package, his coin pouch a little lighter, but it was money well spent.

When he got back, the clerk was just finishing tying up the package of clothing. She glanced up, grinning, and gestured for him to come inside, laying a finger to her lips as she nodded toward the side of the shop.

Bridget was standing in front of a full-length mirror, unable to stop admiring the way she looked, absolutely in love with the sheer thrill of having anything that belonged exclusively to her. As they watched, she giggled and twirled, stopping suddenly as her eyes found Sam. There was the rare blush as she shrugged, smoothing her hands down her skirt. "Not goin' to shame you, am I?"

Sam froze as he caught sight of the shop clerk and followed her nod to the petite woman examining her reflection in the mirror, astounded when he realized that pretty petite woman was his own Bridget. His. Not Dobson's or anyone else's. She belonged to him; she was going to be his wife. His heart swelled at the thought of it. Though he'd thought her pretty from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her, it made him especially proud and happy to see her enjoying her new clothes as much as she was, and to know that pretty little flower belonged to him. "Gods, no," he replied, a soft smile on his face. "Why'd you think that?"

"Just checkin'," she told him, her mischievous smile bright as she moved to join him. "You haven't been waitin' long, have you?" As she asked, the clerk handed her the brightly wrapped packages with a wink and a smile, leaving them be to go and tend to another customer.

"No, not long," he replied, his gaze moving over her, taking her in. She was like a breath of fresh air, and he was surprised to suddenly find himself tongue-tied. "I, uh, I just got here." He looked her over again, realizing she had quite a few packages to carry, and he only had one, which he quickly tucked into a pocket, so that he could carry hers. "You, uh ....You look might pretty, Bridget."

His compliment made her smile deepen as she looked down at herself, thrilling to the knowledge that this man, who had taken it upon himself to be her friend and protector from the moment they'd met, found her pretty. "I have new clothes," she said almost shyly, and quite suddenly threw her arms around his neck, squealing like a delighted child. "This is so excitin'! All dressed up and gettin' wed to my handsome fella! Best day in history!"

He might have returned that hug if his arms weren't full, though he laughed with delight at her almost childlike reaction to her new wardrobe. If this was his reward, he might just have to take her shopping more often. "Well ..." he murmured, unsure what to say. "I reckon the feeling's mutual!" he told her with an almost nervous chuckle.

She kissed his cheek enthusiastically before letting go, only just noticing that he'd taken all the packages from her. "I can carry some of them, you know," she pointed out in amusement. "I have hands, look." She waved them in front of him to make the point. Apparently new clothes turned her into a small child.

He laughed as she waved her hands at him. He would have caught them if his arms weren't already full of packages. "Good to know. I hadn't noticed," he teased back, green eyes bright with mischief. "We got a little time before the wedding," he told her. "There's something I wanna do." Shifting the packages to tuck them under one arm, he reached for her hand to lead her out of the shop.

Caught by the hand, she just about managed to wave to the clerk who had looked after her before she and Sam found themselves out in the noonlight, most of the morning already gone by and their wedding hour fast approaching. "What're we doin' now?" she asked curiously, unhooking her hand from his to wrap her arm through the crook of his elbow.