Had Lord Armon, instead of 'Sir' Rene (as Mia preferred to address him), been sitting opposite her and confessed his conscience alone had sprung him into action she would have known him to be lying. The prolonged silence, the contemplation, the meandering as he tried to establish his own motivations spoke to Rene's honesty. Solae wasn't certain what answer she had expected from her query but she was dumbstruck by his reply nonetheless. She did not suppress the surprise that spread across her features. If Rene had a past of aristocracy as she suspected he had to know how profound of a revelation this was for any elite to hear. There were kind souls littered amongst them but their fealty was to the throne, not to each other.

"A less injured person with an easier route to safety," she finally remarked dryly.

Realizing that this might sound like criticism instead of praise, Solae leaned forward and placed her hand on his. Through the small touch he could feel how warm her fingers and palms were- something Solae herself was acutely aware of- but she smiled and hoped he wouldn't be put off by the heat her body was radiating. The raise in her 'core body temperature' had been caused by none other than Rene himself. "Thank you. I don't have any way to make it up to you right now, but I'd like to try in the future. The Empire could use more people like you."

"Lady Solae, the Grundel Biscuits have finished baking," Mia interrupted with a soft purr. Solae's heart nearly leapt out of her chest and her fingers on top of Rene's had jerked when she startled. Without realizing she had been staring at Rene, thinking how wonderfully handsome he was despite his injuries. There was something horribly captivating and enchanting about his demeanor, his morality, his simplicity that drew her in with such force she hardly remembered to breathe. Flustered she broke eye contact, inadvertently glanced at his bare chest behind the unbuttoned shirt, and then jumped out of her chair.

"I should get those," she explained as she tried to compose herself. Solae leaned down, brushing his cheek with a gentle kiss of gratitude, before making her way into the kitchen. The oven had already ejected a silicone-covered baking sheet with the square biscuit slices onto a counter to cool. The marquise had made two sheets out of an abundance of caution about future food sources and placed the second of these into the oven.

"Fair's fair," she called from the adjoining room. "Since I asked you a difficult question, you can ask me any one you like. I promise there are no topics off boundaries," she offered. It was an unconventional approach; anyone with a title was used to demanding things of their 'inferiors' with no reciprocation. In the few times they allowed themselves to be questioned it was never with such an openness as Solae was demonstrating now- but she wasn't in the palace or a royal estate. She was alone with a man who had saved her, wanting nothing and expecting nothing, who was her equal if not 'superior' in their race for survival, whom she felt compelled to be honest with if for no other reason than she liked him.