Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé

There had been, perhaps, the faintest light of some fledgling good temper in her face - the kind born of a certain level of self satisfaction, yes, but nurtured along by the agreeable shock of finding him so unexpectedly amenable. She had anticipated that at this time they would still be arguing over the state of the house, or wrestling with the refusal of her plan, or, or, or— And so on.

Optimism's glow disappears at remarkable speed. Her cup clinks hard against its saucer.

"I'm sorry to hear it hasn't lived up to your expectations."