"I appreciate you accepting my invitation for tea today" Anette says as she sips her tea. merely two days she lost her husband to a mysterious illness, and as a fellow noble you felt the need to offer support in her time of bereavement "you're always oh so sensible, darling, almost as sweet as the pastries you brought" she gives you a bright smile that seems strangely out of place, her supposed saddened demeanour returning a few seconds later "but oh my poor husband..." she sobs, wiping tears away from her now wet eyes which now pierce into your soul "he died so quick and easy. its almost pathetic don't you think?"