There's a rather gentle urge to dismiss the mitten, to say something about it, but it's not her place to comment on what he does or does not do. Instead, she smooths down her skirts and watches him, waiting. She's never been very good at this part of the job, the part where she has to make idle conversation or say something gentle to make them feel better.
The truth is easier, she thinks. Let them know just how dangerous and painful their treatment might be, even if they might not like to hear it.
"Of course." A nod of her head. "Sidony Venaras, if you please."
Luckily, the man before her hardly seems to be looking for a kind word. Instead, he gives her a curt nod, punctuated by some slightly shift in the line of his shoulders. It's maybe the smallest bow ever imagined. "Ricart. I appreciate your time, Mademoiselle Venaras. I won't take any more of it."
And just like that, he draws the edge of his cloak forward over his shoulder and turns for the door. He's gone as abruptly as he'd appeared.
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The truth is easier, she thinks. Let them know just how dangerous and painful their treatment might be, even if they might not like to hear it.
"Of course." A nod of her head. "Sidony Venaras, if you please."
no subject
And just like that, he draws the edge of his cloak forward over his shoulder and turns for the door. He's gone as abruptly as he'd appeared.