Someone had entered the room, they were quiet and she didn't bother to look around, knowing it was likely the captain. The thread was mostly tangled beyond repair, she had used her teeth to break it apart at points, winding lengths of various colours into different sized balls. Scraps sat to her right, useless. Despite all the hard work she wasn't even a third of the way done, but with nowhere else to go she would simply keep working. After this she organize her books and press the pages that had gotten bent when her chest was rifled through.

She could hear the captain moving about the room, though soon he stopped right behind her and she tensed. Would he be upset she left the room without permission? All she had wanted was a distraction, and with this chest she would be good, at least for awhile. After all, she was used to spending long hours amusing herself, considering she lived the idle life of a sheltered princess. Her fingers ached from pulling at the threads and she struggled to continue working at the knotted threads. Grumbling to herself she threw the mess to the floor and closed her eyes. Her head was swimming and she swayed a bit. What was wrong with her? It would be fitting if she were to be sick here, with no doctor and no hope for relief.

Pale hands gripped the chest and she attempted to pull herself up, which only seemed to make it worse. Bent over and still gripped the chest she left out a rather pitiful moan. She felt weak and tired, and like she would fall to her feet if she attempted to move anywhere. Perhaps her protest of the food and drink offered her was catching up. Yet she hadn't even felt hungry, too disturbed by recent events to even eat. "Water." She mumbled, glancing in the captains direction before she straightened herself. She wavered a bit, swaying on her feet.

===

Gerard raised an eyebrow at her words. What was her game, speaking to him like that? Before he could figure that out she was pushing on him, and instead of fighting he allowed it, not sure what to make of this state she was in now. The plate clattered to the floor but she didn't seem to mind, and he said nothing, watching her closely, wondering if this was a trap. A groan escaped him when she nuzzled into his neck, his head swimming. Was he still that weak from his injury, that it would only take that small touch?

He was confused at her apology, he felt no need for her to be sorry for that, perhaps sorry for not continuing. "It's alright." He grumbled, not sure how to handle the situation. He was used to whores, who knew what they were doing and got the job done. Obviously she didn't know what she wanted and he was in no mood to figure it out. He scooted over, his shoulder pressing against the wall, leaving her some room to lie down on the cot beside him. She was drunk, that much was obvious, and he wasn't about to take advantage of that, in this state he couldn't even if he wanted to.

Realizing he still held the bottle of ale in his hands he struggled to sit up enough to take a large swig from the bottle, the stain on his chest more than he should have allowed, but if he was going to stay in bed with her, he felt like he just might need it.