Marie watched the man go for a moment before turning and heading back inside, shutting the door firmly against the wind and streaming rain that threatened to flood the front hall. Already her skirts were soaking at the bottom hem and trailing puddles all over the wood that was in sore need of polishing. Her mind raced for a moment, thinking over the appearance of the young stranger, before she snapped herself out of it and set to work.

Southern hospitality. He deserved every speck of it she could offer him and nothing was going to convince her otherwise. To the kitchen she went, the space large and imposing in the darkened house, and she lit a few candles before fixing the stove as well to boil a kettle of water. And then she was back to the front of the house, starting a fire in the sitting room that was actually prepared to receive guests. It was already fall, and neither of them could afford to catch a chill in this foul weather.

She was coming around to the front of the house when the man entered, and she paused for a moment before nodding to the tray she carried. "I've made some hot tea to warm you," she explained. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything stronger." She didn't keep alcohol in the house, hadn't since Remy passed, fearing the temptation would be too great to simply lose herself in it. "Come on in this way, you can put your wet things by the fire to dry."