"As close to a slice of the North as I could manage for you." It is not much, he knows. More than he might bother with for those that he holds as socio rather than amico, but the comforts offered a widow do not end when the funeral has come and gone. They were not wed, she and Hansen, but it was close enough to count for this. He offers Benevenuta his hand, smiling gently.

"Come, sit. I thought perhaps somewhere safe with a bit of art might do you some good." There are, she might note, no paintings or sculptures about.