"Andraste bless you," Geneviève says with a smile, taking a sip from her cup and immediately regretting it. She doesn't entirely miss the look on the other woman's face, but doesn't make much note of it, too focused on rolling her tongue against the roof of her mouth in an attempt to get the aftertaste to subside.

The question does get a curious tilt of her head, and Geneviève looks a little more carefully at the woman seated next to her.

"Vous êtes Orlesian, êtes-vous pas? I would think you'd know."