Closing the door back behind her as she stepped into the room, the smile was at least slightly reassuring of the situation as she crossed over to the desk and settled herself down in the chair that had been indicated, crossing her ankles and tucking them under the chair as she folded her hands in her lap, looking ever the high society matron. Peering across the desk at her youngest, Angela took in the dips and curves of his face, the vague differences that she could see past the scar, the largest anchor to remind her of the world that her baby had had to endure.
"I just wondered," Angela said, glancing back towards the door before turning her attention to Peter intently. "Can I go outside now?"