Magni looks to Lakshmi, and her expression is too much contained. The apology in her gaze is hard to parse, the strain that pulls at her. Fjorleif's hand briefly rests at Magni's forearm, squeezes fleetingly.

"Of course, my dear." Not willing to undermine Magni's authority, she looks to her daughter. Magni is capable, has proven herself able to carry her father's mantle, and she must snap out of the haze that her failed engagement has brought down on her if she is to allow them to carry on.

A blink, and Magni feels more returned to her senses, and rests one of her hands at the small of Lakshmi's back, as though to steady her. "It is very warm. Perhaps we can visit the balcony or—" Or, uh? "Or retire for the evening."