He is careful and precise and very tidy. Johanna is few of these things but she appreciates them in others and has a very slightly amused lilt to her expression as she extends a hand beyond her blanket wrap and takes the mug. She takes a sip of the spiced wine and makes a flat sort of sound in her throat, one that is neither a disagreement nor an agreement, merely acknowledgement.

"One can hope it is petty, they will be gone quickly then," she says and lets the mug steam before her, unwilling to set it on the table while she waits for it to cool.

"They are loud, grating, and surly--fortunately my house must look like a mill to them, I haven't had a soul come to bother me. Apart from you."