[Most people have gathered far and away, by the roaring fires and much more conveniently placed - the more modern heating systems. The aura from them, and the glass greenhousing kept the garden uncomfortably chill, rather than deadly frozen. Outside, snow whirls against the undoubtedly force screen reinforced glass.

Lady Vorrutyer is standing in the company of a few bland faced armsmen. Having donned a small pile of furs and a warm cup of tea, she looked penultimately prepared from where she sits, regally, in a wrought iron chair.]

Miles, .. Bel, was it? I'm glad you've made it so early, at that. I thought you'd dawdle more in romantic gestures. [Her eyes are bright with that sharp amusement Vorrutyers tended towards.]