Octavian put a hand on Isabelle's shoulder, smiling kindly to her.
"You've had quite a long journey, dear. If you wish, you may retire to our rooms if you don't feel up to continuing this visit for the duration of the meal." He murmured quietly.
Isabelle paused and looked down at her hands for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts and get a hold of herself.
"Do I look so tired...?" She murmured quietly in a whisper. "It's just...a little much..." She trailed off, sighing and shaking her head.
The overwhelming feeling of dread and suspicion was so intense that it was starting to hurt her head.
Lyov laid a comforting hand upon her arm, and rubbed it soothingly.
"Yes, dear, you do."
She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Oh no. I'm not making the best impression, am I?"
Octavian shook his head.
