She felt mildly stunned as she was ushered into... Sigyn could not even tell what the room was supposed to be used for. Nothing took on a definite shape to exclaim its purpose, it was lost under the books. So she assumed it was a dining room or parlor of some sort. At least it had a comfy chair that was thankfully free of reading material.
When Bragi excused himself, she nodded absently, her eyes still on the stacks. He'd collected some, he'd said, and written the others. How many of them were his? How did he know which ones? Was there some sort of system? Was that why they were stacked as they were? He couldn't just remember which were which. There were far too many.
Then he was back, pulling her out of her book-dazed revery. She murmured her gratitude and took a sip. Then she blinked. It was the best apple wine she'd ever tasted. The best wine, period, she'd ever tasted. It was fantastic.
Before she could compliment him on the wine, which was probably Idun's doing, Bragi was gushing about her oatcakes. She sounded about them the way she felt about the wine. But she knew that her oatcakes were nowhere near as good as the beverage, so she flushed slightly with embarrassment. Trying to remain poised, Sigyn smiled graciously and demurred, “Oh I don't think they're that good. But I'd be happy to send a batch over to you. If you're home.”