For a split second, Greta worries that Saoirse might actually like the taste of it, but the girl's triumphant expression quickly turns into a wince as the taste fully hits her. She does force it down, probably out of stubbornness, which Greta can understand (she's done some silly things out of stubborn pride, too, especially when she was that age). It's not a terribly convincing smile Saoirse gives her, though, and Greta takes back the empty glass with a sympathetic, "Here, you can chase it down with something a bit sweeter." At this point, she doesn't think Saoirse's likely to object to glass of juice, instead.

"I think bringing over the roast is all that's left," Greta says as she brings over their wine glasses. She considers bringing the bottle over, too, but she doesn't want to make it easier for Saoirse to ask for seconds, if she gets it in her head to try it again.

She feels a faint thrill of apprehension as they all get settled. Not that she anticipates disaster; it's just that Thomas has never eaten anything she's made, before. Goodness knows the sort of meals he's had in the past, or where he sets the bar as far as quality is concerned.

And she knows he's been living differently in Darrow, and that his own situation was more humble than his title might suggest. But he was also perfectly comfortable at Magnus's party, and he must have traveled in circles where everyone was accustomed to the finer things. Besides, this is what she does for a living. She ought to be better than average, and it's hard not to worry that she won't measure up.

So while she manages not to stare outright as Thomas digs in, she does watch carefully to see how he reacts. He's so well-mannered that she doubts he'd breathe a word if he was unimpressed, but his expression still might betray something.