It takes a certain kind of personality to be so still and quiet, so content to wait and think. She likes to think it would be soothing: staring into the fire, being transported far away. "You should tell me about them," Brigitte says as she tucks her legs under herself and rests the cup against her knee; and for a moment, it's unclear which part she's referring to.

"--Your brothers or the stories," she clarifies then, considering. Whichever part he's comfortable sharing.