She had been so distracted by her own thoughts and the stroke of her brush that she hadn't even sensed him until he was dangling the kerchief in front of her face. That didn't say much. He was a highly trained knight. He was probably closer to Rhys' age so he had years on her. But she didn't startle.
Instead, Feyre put the brush she had been about to reload into the glass of water and took the offered delicate fabric. "Thanks." She brushed the handkerchief over her cheek. "Did I get it?"
She was dressed in the flowing fabrics of the Night Court, something she often wore in the House of Wind. It flashed her stomach if she moved a certain way, but it was less constraining than anything else she owned. And she wouldn't trip over it. And she didn't have to worry about flashing anyone.