She pursed her lips in an expression that could best be described as displeased, but which also carried with it hints of stubbornness and exasperation—and the conversation had barely begun!

"It is very difficult to convince them that you are not on death's doorstep when you insist on hiding yourself away," the witch pointed out. Rather than look at her husband—and his new wheelchair, which caused a queasiness to come over her each time she thought of it—directly, Rufina's gaze cast instead about the room, with it's opened volumes, an only partially-consumed breakfast tray, and it's faint odour of having been lived in. Though normally a distinguished space, there was nothing at all dignified about what it had become.

She continued, "And besides, Annabelle says it is best to return to normalcy as swiftly as you are able."

Though the St Mungo's healers had preached the virtues of rest, her sister had given advice that Rufina found far more appealing.