From his youngest days, the man has been taught how to treat others, even should the beast within him pace against the bars of his heart during those moments where it was disrupted from that typically calm disposition. He knew how to treat another living being, an individual that had the given right to being respected. No, one did not always have to nod respectfully as Roman and his siblings were shown and told to do in the presence of others, but there was a line between what was expected on the level of common courtesy and going below it. There was being kind, and then there was merely being courteous. One so often came with s warmth and maybe even the slightest of genuine smiles while the other was simply out of a sense of duty lost on so many in this day and age.. Opening doors for others, helping those who were perhaps a touch weaker than himself, it was all something that came natural to the lion just as his unwavering and gentle courtesies he so paid to those considered to be his elders as well as to the fairer sex and children who might cross his path. While he has never known his grandparents, he and his siblings have heard of them through stories told by their mother with the occasional input from their usually silent father who was content to allow his mate to be the one that taught their growing children what would always be expected of them. He remembers his mother expressing with gentle seriousness how important it was to help the elderly and watch over the young, regardless of their race. In the end, though they were in fact one of the biggest predators to walk the earth, they were so partially human in a way, and as such it was with honor that they all remembered and respected the delicate balance between the natural and supernatural. It was second nature for the lion to go above the bar set by his mother and father, the fathers before his own going as far into history as the very first Lionels who had wandered freely over the African plains, in a time where there did not always seem to be hunters tracking them, waiting for the smallest and most fleeting opportunity to take what was not theirs. So deeply engrained into the were is his family's foundation of respecting and protecting those both deserving and entitled, that he does not even realize how... outdated such gestures might be, how strange his ways could be looked upon by those so unaccustomed to the civil courtesy that Roman did not hesitate to express to those around him so long as they did not threaten himself, or worse still, those around him. He did not need a pack or a pride to be the protector he has always been for his family.

And yet, there is more to the warm smile and kind words the man offers her than the common respect and warmth he would have given others. It was different and even more effortless, that gentleness that she coaxes from the lion. He cannot quite place what it was about this human woman, what set her apart and had those walls of his so readily placed between that which he fiercely treasured, protected with his every breath and heartbeat, and the rest of the word beyond those carefully placed bricks and concrete beginning to break away beneath the radiance of her smile and soft melody that was her laughter. How long has it been since the lion has found himself so captured by the company of another in such a way that it has him hardly contemplating what he was comfortable enough to share? Truthfully, aside from Maeve, he cannot think of a recent moment quite like this one where laughter came easily from him. The man is unable to remember the last time that he has been in the presence of a woman that left him wondering of the and the spirit which surely rested behind the windows to their soul. It was not that he did not trust them with those more intimate details of his past, of seeing those carefully guarded pieces to who he was. Rather, it was his fear that he might give the wrong impression, that... something might happen that Roman was far from ready to let back into his life after the mistakes he's made. And so, like the rest of the world, he is cautious with women and the hearts he knew to rest within their chest, treading thoughtfully so that no one ended up hurt. However, with the chestnut-haired woman, there is something different that stirs within the lion. It is something that he dares to think he has felt before somewhere, though he is careful and gently pushes it away and to the back of his mind for now, even content to dismiss it as a simple fondness for the radiance in her smile and the light glittering within those stunning silver-blue eyes reminding him of all good and beautiful things in the world that he has seen. When their hands touch, he nearly winces at the thought of his rough his own, so used to hard work and physical labors might feel against hers they was very much soft and slender, hoping that she might not be startled by its calloused disposition. The definition to the muscle in his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, there was no denying that Roman was practically designed for the tasks many were not able to carry out alone. There is a silent note of apology that touches his smile then as they exchanged those common respects in the shape of names, and it is then that he knows he will not forget hers.

Fiora. It was soft and light, like the feather of a dove dancing so graceful and carefree upon a gentle breeze lingering between summer and autumn just strong enough to touch ever so tenderly upon sun-kissed skin. The way it felt upon his tongue and slips gently from his lips, it was as if one were to sing but a single note nestled within perhaps the gentlest of melodies he longed to know the secrets of, or perhaps it might be like a chaste and cherished whisper upon the ears of those who might hear it. He found himself ever more curious of the woman sitting across from him then, wanting to know more of the song that was Fiora, yearning to catch perhaps just the smallest glimpse of the story resonating within every softly sung harmony that would have made the woman into the soft symphony so capable of captivating the lion in a way nothing else has before. Her voice the man has come to revel in reaches attentive ears in that moment as she speaks so easily, so truly to her bright spirit he can see dancing within her gaze that he cannot help the gentle smile that etched itself into his chiseled features."Hmmm. I believe the Gaelic meaning then might be 'fair', if I am not mistaken. Though my stay in Glasgow had been very brief, but I was able to pick up some things during my travels", he says in calm tenor tones, thoughtful as he works to pull those fleeting days in Scotland to his mind. It had been only days that he's spent there, having been dropped off by a cargo ship that docked on to tip of Stranraer on its way through the North Channel where it had stopped for fuel along its journey across the world. It was there that Roman had wandered those foreign streets, ventured over those rolling, lush hills, drank in the vast beauty of the land that he would only ever see once in his life. Three days of rest and land was what he had been given before needing to return to that cargo ship that had been willing to hire the man, but even to this day, despite that brief chapter in his life having slipped further and farther into his past, the lion could not forget the beauty that he'd found there. He wonders then if she has been there, if perhaps she was born there, and yet there is no accent that so intertwined with her soft voice. It was almost easy for Roman to forget that simply because one speaks of their ancestry does not mean that they have had the same luxury as he has. Not many have ventured nearly as far as the lion who once traveled alongside his family, only to venture down his own path through various other countries and foreign realms that even they would never see with their own eyes. Yes, he has spoken to Trinity of the places he's seen, where he's been, and he could always here the awe in her voice, how she wistfully she would say that she hoped to one day visit all those places. Maybe, someday, she would.

Her next words are thoughtful, the man lifting that paper cup to his lips, that warm liquid nearly gone now. Still, Fiora holds so much of the man's attention, golden-hazel eyes resting gently over the woman as she speaks of her coffee habits and he nods in wordless agreement. It was not something that his own body and mind so desperately craved, not like the people that filtered through the front door of Inner Sanctum. Perhaps if money was not something the man was often working towards just to ensure that he had a roof over not only his head, but now also having Maeve to look after, he might have considered indulging more often. And yet, it was just that; a luxury. His thoughts do not linger upon the caffeine so many were driven to need each and every morning when again, the gentle woman's lyrical voice reaches him, her modest certainly becoming of her and having the lion smiling softly to her, Fiora's own smile radiant as she offers those words of encouragement."Perhaps one day", he answers warmly, knowing that while it was not something on his list of priorities at this moment in time, it was far from an unappealing thing to learn. How Tristan and Drake would be surprised to hear of their somewhat reckless and spontaneous brother daring to venture down the path of artistry, likely even teasing him good-naturedly. The woman grows timid then beneath her own excitement, a soft smile dancing across her lips and he was almost certain she had come close to blushing, though that pleasant rosy hue does not touch her cheeks just yet as she looks away from him only fleetingly before silver-blue eyes find golden-hazel once more. That smile, so soft and so gentle, it grows at his agreement to help her, and though he can hear the slight undertones of uncertainty in her voice, the man can hardly help the way that his gaze softens over her."I do", he assures her gently then, her excitement and gratitude illuminating those eyes he could lose himself if should he not be careful."You are quite welcome. I look forward to starting this project with you", he replies then, tenor tones warm as his own smile remains upon chiseled and masculine features. He could not remember the last time that he has seen a heart so... bright, like a star shimmering within the depths of a blue-black sky somewhere far from the city, where its beauty was undisturbed by those blinding city lights drowning so much of those glittering beings caught in the embrace of the heavens.

While he hardly expected for her to offer him that sketchbook, Roman is happy to look through those pieces that she was working on, admiring the natural beauty and flow of the art he finds etched into those pages. They often say that beautiful things were a reflection of the beauty within someone's heart, and should this be the case, the lion could not help but consider hers to be perfect one of the most beautiful in such a light. After he's glanced carefully, tenderly over each page, offering her those honest thoughts and warm appreciations for the talent very much evident in the young woman. Her words have those golden-hazel eyes gentling even further as they look back up Fiora, and sure enough he can see the warmth coloring her cheeks then at the praise he has given her. There is a gentle laughter, like a warm summer breeze against one's face as he returns the book to her."My apologizes, Fiora. I did not mean to embarrass you. But, I assure you, your work is beautiful...", he says then, pausing only briefly."I am sure that you will soon have your work displayed for all the city to admire", he adds at last, choosing instead to keep those opinions of how he saw her heart and soul equally as warm and beautiful as her appearance to himself. If his compliments on her art would bring a flush to her cheeks, then surely such a compliment would only worsen things. Glancing over to the old-fashioned grandfather clock sitting near their little corner of the café, the lion is almost surprised to see how much time has passed, and his thoughts wander briefly to the fae child waiting for him at her hotel. He knew he should be leaving soon, and yet... Fiora's melodic voice returns Roman's attention to her, his gaze settling curiously over the young woman as she goes on about where this building was, admitting then â€" despite her modest words â€" that this place was in need of quite a bit of detailing, but Roman is hardly worried, instead offering her another warm grin."Well, that shouldn't be a problem. I always consider such projects as a chance to create something better than what had been there before", he says encouragingly, entirely confident in his own capabilities and the visions that the woman had for this place which would be the harbor for her dreams. He reaches into the pastry bag then, tearing off a generous piece and glancing to the pencil tucked into her sketchbook before lifting golden-hazel up to silver-blue."May I?", he asks politely, not wanting to reach for the pencil until he is entirely certain she does not mind.

Carefully retrieving the pen in the same moment that she acknowledged that it was alright, he writes own his number on that thin piece of paper."I truly wish that I could stay and talk longer, Miss Fiora, but I do have someone waiting for me this morning. I promised that I would take her to the playground. And I do my best to keep my promises, especially with children", he says warmly then before gently lifting the paper from the table and placing it within her hand, as well as returning the pencil to its place within the spine of her sketchbook. Smiling softly to the woman, he finishes the rest of his coffee, standing from his seat across the table, and retrieves the pastry bag with the banana nut muffin. He lingers there for a moment, golden-hazel eyes regarding Fiora and those silver-blue eyes that he would surely have a difficult time not thinking of today as he tended to the fae child."It was a great pleasure to meet you. And, thank you again, for allowing me to share this space with you. I hope that we can do this again soon", he says smoothly, reaching his hand out to her once more in that familiar and casual gesture of farewell, though it went without saying that he could have surely stayed there for hours more talking with the woman who had so managed to captivate him as she did. The only ones who had the man's number were his family, and Maeve of course. While it seemed like something so small, what it meant to him was much more. So much more.