She takes the glass happily, taking a sip and appreciating the clandestine nature of it before she shrugs. "I don't know that good is the word. Weird. Distant. Aoife hates me," she says, and it's easier to shrug it off than really think about it and worry about it, like she's been doing for the rest of the week. She had thought the Thornton dinner would bring them closer again, the two of them against the Thornton army, but it only made it worse.

"It's not dumb at all. What have you been getting up to? Other than stealing."