Though Pscipolnitsa's voice had grown more reserved and markedly cooler, Sita found herself suddenly more at ease. Coldness, she could understand. Reserve, too. It was the kindness, the barely hidden challenge that she'd heard in 'Nitsa's voice and seen in her face that she had found so thoroughly disarming. She supposed that she'd known instinctively that it was a challenge she was unworthy of.
"Very few people do," Sita said, without bitterness. She lifted her drink and took a sip, lashes lowered. It had gone cold, but she didn't really notice. She looked up. "Thank you," she said simply. "For sharing who you are. I'm grateful for it." That was no lie. If Pscipolnitsa had withdrawn, Sita had in contrast grown more animated. There was a light in her eyes, a real warmth that had not been in her before. "I'll try and answer your questions more thoroughly in the future. Though I think it's clear I've little talent for it," she said earnestly.