The men's sudden white flag was likely due to the threat of Bran's knife, and not the gentle, French plead that James had given them. She stood by, watchful and wary, as the two eventually consented with mixed expressions that were far from friendly. James didn't like the idea of approaching them, she'd have much rather been the one holding the knife, and the derisive glance that she gave Bran said as much.
"Fine," summoning a sharp little sigh, she brushed past Bran and started forward with a slowness that spoke of caution. Kneeling down, she collected the food, which seemed to be bread and fruit wrapped in a small, cotton towel. The well bucket of water was heavier, but it had an iron ring that allowed her to draw it's weight into the crook of her arm.