It is unusual, to be sure, but this is something that Lexie had on occasion shared with Emile. There is both comfort and hurt in such an occurrence now; both wine and company help with the latter. Being left alone after having been briefly joined would have been so much worse than simply remaining by herself as she so often is during her near-nightly wandering.

After a few sips, though, she realizes that she has very little in the way of things to say to Fifi. She could not be as familiar with her as she could with the woman who had been as nearly inseparable from her as her shadow. Could not ask advice, could not unburden herself. Well, she could, but it was all too likely to receive a perfunctory and guarded response. After all, she was as much a stranger to Fifi as Fifi was to her. She idly dips a finger into the wine, uses the liquid on her finger to make the crystal sing. Stops and sighs instead when she realizes it's the middle of the night and the sweeping acoustics of the mansion will carry the sound.

"Tell me..." Lexie begins, gesturing vaguely, "...anything. Your favourite pastry. If you like the colour of the sea better here or in Val Royeaux. If you have ever been in love." An entirely Orlesian set of questions.