Sonja could not help but notice that Borghast's attire flattered him almost as much as hers did herself. She did not care how tired he looked, she did not care how drawn or pale, serves him right if he was feeling poorly was an unkind thought that crossed her mind.<br/><br/>Stopping at the foot of the stairs, Sonja glares up at her would-be husband, her lips pressing firmly together to reign in her tongue. Struggling to stop the protesting, the mentioning of the fact that Ingram had no claim to her to offer her hand to anyone. Sonja simply presses her now free hands to her stomach, a gesture of nerves though she simply was doing so to stop the butterflies from bringing up the sparse breakfast.<br/><br/>Not trusting herself to speak kind words, to avoid the almost inevitable scene where she explodes from the pent up anger, fear, and remorse that seems to build as the seconds pass.