The steadiness of that stare has Adelaide's blood running cold, the pointedly even way he is looking at her, despite her state of undress when she is so used to flustering him, has all her warning bells ringing. His stance strikes her as being wrong for a beat before she realizes why - it's because his positioning isn't the least bit deferential and it's only then that realizes that it has never, ever not been deferential before. She has a sudden, wild moment of worry over Charlie, a quick frantic thought of being separated from him, before TR goes on. She reaches for the towel she has laid out, standing from the bath and wrapping it quickly around herself. The towel is big enough and she is small enough that it reaches her knees, and in this rare state of undoneness she looks entirely delicate.
Except the eyes. Her eyes, if examined closely enough in those first half-moments, reveal the fact that she can and will turn to claws-out desperation fighting, if all of her other options are burned through. She controls that in a flash, but it was there.
Every other time TR has approached her, every time it has seemed as if he knows something, Adelaide has played it innocent, revealing nothing lest she give him something he doesn't already have. It has worked so far. This time, though, this approach, gives her the distinct feeling that he already has plenty. Still, she treads as lightly as she can manage while dripping wet, naked, and surprised. It can always be made worse.
When she speaks, it is done carefully. "What is it you're getting at, darling?" she asks, brows knitting and her eyes roving over his face, small hand holding the towel while her feet remain in the soapy water, ankles lost to bubbles. "I know that Charlie and I are important to you. I know your work is important, too, but I'm not comparing the two... What's happened to rile you up this way?"