She looked up from a book she'd found, which wonder of all things had a teenage heroine who wasn't stupid or boycrazy, to see her poor father looking bedraggled. Carefully marking her place, she went to hug him. "Yes, a maid I think?"
She set to work getting chocolate and milk out. "Hot Chocolate and while that is going, I'll tidy up. Smoothing down her long black skirt and white t, one thing her mother did come through on was clothes and for that at least, Wren was grateful; and unlike her dad, Wren had heard of aprons.
Once it was on, she poured the milk in a pan and roughly chopped bittersweet chocolate. "You know, even if I could do this by magic, I'd rather do it by hand. It's like kneading dough, there's something very satisfying about it."