The smell of singed leather is a unique smell, and pungent, the first whiff that reaches the sleeping woman slightly nudges her from sleep. However she fights the wakefulness, preferring the comfort of dark nothingness. As the maid lit the candles one, by one, brightening the room Sonja's wakefulness grew exponentially, until finally her dark eyes reluctantly open, to watch silently the maid's obvious admiration of the fabric.<br/><br/>Her eyes drop to the clothing on the bed, and recognizes the burned scent with a harsh bark of laughter. "The bastard.." was muttered under her breath as she reaches for the leather attire. Apparently he had done exactly what he had said, though she has not inspected the garment to find exactly where the holes were burned at.<br/><br/>"Thank you.." She says a bit louder, her pretense of nonchalance dropped now. Picking up the material inspecting first the top, then the bottom trying to judge just where the holes would lay against her body. "I hope I haven't caused your job to be too much more difficult."