Something about the casualty of his shrug and his reply had her wondering if it was intentional on his part, or if he really didn’t think she needed to thank him. Why wouldn’t she? He stole her away for a night, gave her a chance to sleep, to clean up, to relax away from the reason she’d become so withdrawn. There was no more Simprina breathing down her neck. Ivor was nothing but an afterthought (albeit a prevalent one), and nothing Sirmian had tainted this slice of heaven.<br/><br/>Brád wasn’t judging her, he wasn’t asking more of her than she was able to give. He was being cautious and careful, and ever mindful of her current state.<br/><br/>If that wasn’t thank-worthy, she wasn’t sure what was.<br/><br/>Instead of dwelling on it, she focused on his next question, her peripheral vision taking in the sight of him with his arms crossed. The way his muscles slid beneath his skin, how his lips moved as he spoke, fond memories taking hold to cloud over the ones that had been plaguing her mind for days. In the time since the wedding, she’d subconsciously been avoiding him, only giving him an active thought when receiving a note or catching a glimpse of him, but here…here her thoughts were more than prevalent, active, forefront. It took her aback with how easily her thoughts shifted, which had her all the more hesitant, uncertain, hands rubbing up and down her sides.<br/><br/>“I think so, yes,” Maria responded quietly with a nod. Then, after a thought, she offered, “What do you need from me? Do you wish me to set the table…or bring the food out…perhaps get the drink sorted?”