So old hat that there is no brief smile of self-satisfaction at this concession - but there might have been, had he caught her a few centuries earlier. He may not let it go, but he's conceded at least a reprieve, and frankly she really does want to get safely under the spray of hot water, to wash out blood (and-- yes, grey matter, and bone fragments, and no matter how many times this happens she thinks it will never be pleasant). There is a slight hesitation, a lingering; she watches him over her shoulder before she goes upstairs.

(She moved once already because Jason went through her things-- oh, there were other reasons, but she doesn't like to be known that way. She doesn't like for anyone to know where she keeps her secrets without having been shown by her. Control and the desire for it, that's something Lucius understands, she's sure, but finally she decides perhaps it would be beneath him to go looking and it's not as though she wants him in the bathroom with her just so she knows where he is.

--for other reasons, maybe, but none of them now, and certainly not while he's in this mood.)

The flat has, thus far, fared rather well. She'd locked it up tight when she left and it still is locked, too. Some of the windows of this open downstairs area are smashed, but it's from fallen debris, and a less expensive repair than something else could've been - her flat faces onto a courtyard (wide, but still enclosed), and that's been a boon.