Suddenly it all made sense, even if her expression spoke of incredulity. The reason Basch wasn't quite so eager to track down the man in question and why he'd been jailed in the first place could be one in the same. "What?" hissed Elena, before she was able to contain herself. "Your own brother used your face to ... I can't believe it!" Which wasn't to say she doubted Basch. Merely that the idea of one sibling so thoroughly betraying another was difficult to wrap her mind around. Clearly, she had no idea of the truth behind House Solidor. Such terrible misdeeds were not as uncommon as she would like to think. "Now I want to find him, just so I can give him a series of good and proper beatings. One for every year you were locked away."
The string of threats was mumbled more to herself than Basch, punctuated by the sound of her fist clenching so hard as to pop each knuckle individually. Finally realizing what she was saying, and how inappropriate it was given her company and their surroundings, Elena winced apologetically. "Okay, okay. Threatening family members is always in poor taste. But here you are feeling guilty for even implying, when your brother might have royally screwed you over. I would be so mad!" Basch was, of course, far more even-keeled than Elena could ever hope to be. Something in him still seemed so tempered even in spite of the revelation; both happy and sad to be standing within this domestic museum of fon Ronsenburg relics. She should stop pushing and just let him revel in his remembrances - the good along with the bad.
"It would be nice to have some answers, even if the truth won't change the past." She managed at last. "But this is your family business. However you decide to approach it will be best." There was probably something a little amusing to the way her words escaped though clenched teeth. Elena was trying hard to sound less volatile and more supportive, but it was easier said than done. Looking to bring some levity back into the moment, she stood and hitched a thumb in the direction of one box in particular. Labeled for cookware. She wanted to see inside, but it was high up and she had a feeling it would be heavy. "Can you get that one down for me, muscle man? I'll be needing a cake pan for --" they'd already vaguely discussed his upcoming birthday, so it wasn't much of a surprise. Still, she found herself smiling faintly. Secretively. "Things."