It is so far from the reply that she expected that Nerva has literally no idea what to think, or say, in response. The confusion is writ clearly on her face and she glares down at her wine as if it may have some better answers for her. No one ever just sits down near her and - reads? Especially not a mage. Usually there is a lot more scowling, or sniping, or groaning. Generally it just involved a lot more aggression - passive or otherwise - and especially after the scene in the council room, she didn't expect mere...

Whatever this was.

So she lets the silence fall again as she tries to work out exactly what game Benevenuta is playing with her. Because it must be a game, somehow. That was the only way this made sense. Some sort of subtle mockery that she didn't understand, or some kind of test--

The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became, and the wine was still absolutely no good in supplying any answers for her.

There must be something she was supposed to say. Benevenuta's comments at the council had half been productive and half not - though she couldn't really argue with them. After all, she was right. The Order was dead, here. Nerva was a templar - she never would not be - but the Order itself was in ruins. She could have said something to that effect, perhaps, but when she finally elected to glance over at her silent companion - and see that she was, legitimately, just sitting there and reading - the confusion only deepened and Nerva looked back to her wine.

She sighed - this time more quietly, only to herself - raised her glass, and took another drink.

Maker, but she was no politician.