The words were surprisingly not stilted and cold, despite how few were spoken. From their short chats and their trip to Russia and then Greece, Florence was getting to know the ins and outs of the woman sitting in her living room. Tone was a considerable thing where Svetlana was concerned. One slight change in octave was the difference between genuine and sarcastic or between concerned and indifferent. Despite the shortness behind her words, they weren't cold in the slightest.
She pulled down two wine glasses and popped the cork before pouring them each a glass. She took one of the tins of biscuits lying around and the glasses, as well as the remainder of the bottle tucked under her arm. The assortment made its way to the coffee table where she handed Svetlana a glass before settling everything else down.
"Chocolate chip and there's still a few toffee in there. We go through those a lot." Pointless, really, she'd know when the tin was opened. But it was talking, at least. She curled up on the couch in the spot next to the blonde and offered a smile. "How'd you know?" was all she asked. She didn't need to specify how did Svetlana know what. The woman was perceptive. Perceptive enough to know Florence had needed a night to just sit and relax. She'd figure out the question on her own easily enough.