She managed to take her seat, adjusting herself as comfortably as she could, before he turned to look at her. His eyes, those silvery grey depths, were cold, distant. She expected them to be. Assumed that her own were similarly cool. At least she hoped they were. She was willing for them to be. She kept her face as blank as possible (not a difficult feat, considering that was her baseline these days) as she gazed back at him without saying anything. He was the first to break eye contact, half-turning away from her before reaching with a steady hand for a short glass of what looked like Ogden's resting on the hearth.