Bran glanced up briefly when she left the kitchen, but he didn't move from his spot. He was grateful that he was, at least, wearing long sleeves - the scars on his face were bad enough, but she couldn't see their true extent while it was covered by clothing. He wondered if Ella had already found Daniel and told him about what had transpired, and how long he had to prepare before someone hell-bent on revenge showed up at his door. There was no proof tying him to her attack, but he doubted that she'd dismissed him as a possible suspect.
He took the mug with the briefest flicker of a smile, letting it warm his hands for now instead of taking a sip. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to initiate, nor did he know how to, so he waited for her to say something first.
When she finally did speak, he was slightly relieved that it was a start he could work with. "I don't. Not in the traditional sense, at least." He rubbed absently at the scars, still able to feel the ghost of pain even now. "Katya wouldn't have been able to notice that I was wearing something to cover the scars... that's the point."