As demure as the Doll's body-language is in some ways, she's fearless in others. Her pale eyes hold Miss Lauriel's gaze patiently, rarely blinking, and she shows no hint of concern as Lauriel explores her hands. A twitch of her fingers as Lauriel grazes her palm reveals that the Doll is ticklish, though she issues no sound of complaint as Lauriel tests the limits of her fingers' flexibility. If it hurts--and perhaps it does, once or twice--that's hardly important.

The Doll remains pliant as Lauriel tests her shoulder and pries briefly at the seam just below her chin. In answer to Lauriel's question, the Doll doesn't bother explaining that no apology is needed--she obediently moves her face closer to be more carefully examined. She makes small appreciative murmurs as Lauriel traces the contours of her cheek and ears. The Doll breathes, curiously enough, and Lauriel can no doubt feel the warm air as she rests a thumb on the Doll's [tender, sensitive] lips.

It doesn't escape the Doll's notice that this examination feels rather intimate. How nice. She closes her eyes to bask in the attention, and sighs contentedly as she's called beautiful. She never tires of hearing such things--after all, she was made to be beautiful.

"You're very kind," the Doll says, her whisper matching Lauriel's. "I was not what my maker hoped, I think, but he was kind enough to share me with those who could appreciate his work. Do you like dolls, Miss Lauriel?"