Marta used to like luxury, when she could find it. It was a little intimidating sometimes, like the first night she'd stepped into Seven's home, but she liked being warm, and soft things, pretty things. Just because she'd never quite had the money for such things didn't mean she didn't enjoy them. But that had been before. Things had shifted, and then shifted again, and even if she'd had more money at the moment, she was a little stuck in feeling that she couldn't (or shouldn't) indulge. It meant that she didn't upgrade from the second-hand clothing the rehab facility had given her, and she found that the dollar store along the bus route in the Capital had soap and shampoo and the few other things she sometimes needed to buy. She was just glad that she'd learned how to do the makeup cover-ups no matter how cheap the concealer.
She waited patiently after knocking, hands shoved in the pockets of her oversized coat, hunched in on herself in a way that she hadn't been even when she was balancing a habit with feeding too many city vamps at once. She looked every bit of how petite she was. Small in stature and attitude both. So she waited for the door to open, and was assaulted by warmth and music and the scents of cooking when it did. And Aedan, barefoot and smiling. And telling her to ignore the sort of privacy that she was never going to ignore. She knew, now, how it felt to have someone that could enter at any time, without warning. She didn't want to be that person to anyone else. But she smiled as best she could and gave a little nod, stepping inside and trying to be subtle about the way she angled around him without any contact. She knew it would have to come - it was impossible for him to feed without the sort of contact that many people would consider intimate. But maybe it could wait just a little longer.
"I'm fine. Thanks." The refusal was about as polite as she ever got, and she continued a few more steps inside. Closer toward the warmth. She wasn't going to abandon Aedan and head to stand in front of the fireplace, but it was nice to be warm. At least warm while not also doing laundry. Once inside, she unzipped her coat, easing it off of her shoulders and then holding it in her arms, nearly hugging it as she folded it close to her body. Though she'd showered right before coming, harsh scrubbing and a lot of the dollar-store soap, she still smelled a bit of bleach from the towels and sheets, a bit of cleaner from going around the rooms earlier in the day... And a bit like someone else. The sort of scent that came from not being able to scour another person away completely.