Emery passes the bowl over to Wilde with a grateful nod, then glances in some surprise when a particularly fearsome gust of wind rattles the windows in their panes. "Hadn't looked like foul weather when I set out," he says and paces a few steps over to the window, stealing a brief glimpse beyond the curtains to assess the situation. Dark clouds heavy with snow blanket the sky a forbidding slate grey; it would not be safe for him to begin the journey back, only to be caught unawares in the midst of a blizzard.

A mistake fit for someone unaccustomed to life in the mountain pass, not the village magistrate. Recent events have left him rattled.

He grimaces and turns to look back at the young man whose hospitality he must trespass upon. "I don't wish to impose," he begins uncomfortably... but looks very much like he's got no choice in the matter.