It is not an apology but, then again, she didn't ask for one. She watches him without any consideration that it might be unnerving or rude to watch someone so hawkishly in her own home. If he minds, it doesn't show on his face. She considers keeping the conversation light, or as light as anything can be in this world, but discussing weather or wine is not generally her forte.

The kettle begins to steam, the white wisps rise and curl against the ceiling, and she nods her head at the fire.

"It should be done," she tells him and, without fanfare, immediately follows it with: "Did you already hear about the soldiers?"