She looks slightly less pissed off than she was twenty minutes ago, her hair falling out of a messy ponytail, a plate in each hand. And she's trying not to let herself do more than glance up his face for a moment or two. Did he come in with new scars, the same way she did, or did his wounds stay open? (Something with the Reaper, maybe, but the cut in her hand left a thin, raised line, slicing through all the natural wrinkles in her palm.)

"Here." The boots are staying on until he takes the plates so she can unlace them. And while she does, she takes a look around the room. "Just the one room?"