She arranges the skirts around her, neat over her knees in practise if nothing else. What a pair they make. His grit and stubbornness, rough - definitely another American, with that accent, he's certainly no englishmen - her exhaustion and inability to stop. She blinks at him tiredly. Well, there was another one that seemed completely unused to the notion.

"Yes. Married into, not born, admittedly. Not that it matters much, in the end." She gives him something passes for a laugh, dry in her throat. "Definitely means nothing here and now."