That gets a look tossed over his shoulder at her, and no stinging comeback, on account of not having one as opposed to being genteel. Lucius, instead, finds a place to sit when gestured to do so, and is utterly uncurious about any book shapes she might have stored in her clothing as he undoes a button at the cuff of his wrist, rolling back black cotton. There is bruising, unpleasantly yellows and greens, and a mutter lifts the numbness charm without any visible cue or effect.

His mood, is apparently, one disinclined to chatter, at least not across the room as she sets about her task in the kitchen.