"Hmmph," Rena uttered noncommittally as Thomas stuffed his face with bread and stumbled over his words like a guilty child. "I wasn't going to leave Bridget here by herself," she insisted to his thanks, and though she didn't do it for any sort of recognition it was nice of him to say.
Still, it was hard to stay mad at someone gleefully grinning like a child, even if she was still annoyed at Thomas for making her worry. She crossed her arms over her chest in a last-ditch effort to appear tough. "You had me worried sick," she asserted, though her tone was slightly petulant; she was clearly losing this battle.
Finally, she gave in, sighing with exasperation and pulling out a chair next to Thomas, trying to take in what he was trying to say. Clearly, he was was experiencing a whole range of emotions and needed a chance to talk it out and if nothing else, Rena was grateful that he wanted to talk to her at all after she had woken him up rather abruptly as she did.
"All right, all right," she conceded, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You got me, I'm interested. Did you say Madame Besoir? Since when have you had any sort dealings with her?" Rena couldn't help but ask, her eyebrows raised, because everyone knew the brothel mistress by name and reputation, at least, and she couldn't imagine why Thomas would have entangled with her and her business in any way.