Antonin could tell that it was killing her inside just a little bit to not have the answers she wanted. Determined that she wouldn't bombard him with a number of questions at the very beginning of their meeting, she waited for him to tell him what he wished. It amused him to say nothing as he opened a bottle of fire whiskey to pour them both a glass. Much nicer than the tiny hovel he'd stayed in previously, there was an actual sofa in front of a fireplace. She took a seat, grateful for the heat that the fire provided. No matter the time of year, her husband liked to have a fire going. As October was beginning to come to a close, it was quickly becoming a necessity. He sat next to her, only the smallest of spaces between their bodies.