“He bought me lunch!” Nel cried, as if that explained everything. And it did! “And he's really nice, and I don't see why you hate making friends so much. And nobody's making you do anything.”
She made a truly magnificent face up at Murdoch, likely something more appropriate for a ten year old, but it nevertheless conveyed precisely what she was thinking, something along the lines of: quit your bitching. Nel liked friends; she liked having friends and making friends, and she could remember every last friend she ever had, because they'd been so few and far between when she lived on the Mariner. Syon had not liked friends – at least, he had not liked Nel having friends, particularly male friends, particularly male friends who may or may not have noticed that she was a girl...friends. Even female friends had been problematic, because Syon was wont to...preoccupy them before Nel could really get to know them, and that had always ended in a slap across the face and one girl or another stomping down the gangplank.
So Nel took friendliness very seriously. She also took Doc very seriously, and she wrinkled her nose and twisted a bit beneath his arm to peer up at him, directing a very pointed Look at him with those big blue eyes, a warning. A wagging finger.
“And be nice,” she all but begged.
When they arrived at the right address, Nel kind of gave herself a girly once-over, as though she'd worn something other than she usually wore, which she hadn't, but she just wanted to make sure that everything was acceptable, like if she'd paid more attention before they'd gone out with Samael that whole disaster could've been avoided. Likely, it could not have been, no matter her preparation.
She knocked on the door and rocked back onto her heels, waiting, with a nudge to Murdoch's side that said nothing at all, or maybe a lot, but came with no translation whatsoever.