The voice cleared up the question of who it was--Lillie, Matthew's lover, and not the elf Warden--and Lucressia relaxed, tension leaving her arms, a breath she'd caught leaving her chest. She didn't continue disrobing, though, now conscious that she was being watched. "It is, si." She didn't particularly feel like stripping off her dress only to learn that Lillie would rather have the pond to herself, for instance. "I expected it would be cold, unfortunately enough," she added with a sigh, eyeing the water again.
She should really learn never to have optimism about Ferelden. It would always be disappointing in some way. Especially, especially when weather or comfort were involved. "I was planning on bathing, despite fear of freezing to death. If you don't mind."
Politeness was a tool, after all, and Lucressia didn't see any reason to generate bad feeling. Any more bad feeling that Conlan took pains to sew anywhere he went, at least. (And, as ever, she wondered why she hadn't killed him, as it apparently would have saved her a lot of aggravation in a few years.)