The robes are even more ridiculously huge than the coat - but it doesn't show so much, with the thinner material draping softly down after she tied the sash tight. She has rolled up the sleeves too, exposing pale wrists, one marked on the inside by a shallow but still-healing scar. The hem trails behind her, whispering over the floor as she heads for the fire.

It's a relief to be drier, but her hair is still damp, and the cold of outside seems to have penetrated deep. It makes it easier to ignore him.