Immediately Fíadh can feel the heat from the fire sink into her skin and a satisfied sigh escapes her lips as she sits down. She didn't realize how badly she needed to just ... relax. Her eyes follow the man as he moves around the room until he bounds up the stairs, then she looks to the tart in her hand. She can't remember the last time she's had anything that looks this nice. Or anything that doesn't just look like a simple lump of sustenance. She almost feels bad about eating it. But not bad enough.

She's devoured the tart by the time the man returns with a towel, and she quickly grabs it before ruffling it over her choppy hair.

"Fíadh," she answers brusquely, bringing the towel down from her head. "Who are you?"