The longer she stays laying here, cosy in their entanglement, the harder it's going to be to convince herself that she really does need to find all of her clothes and ... maker, she's not even going to try and get dressed, she'll just have to bundle herself up in her cloak and carry the rest—

For a moment when she tips her head to look at him she's stupidly blank, and then it clears: oh, right. She'd done something tonight besides Stephen.

“No, well— maybe?” lilts up into a question, though not one she's posing to him, really. “Maybe. Nothing so direct as all that, but ... connections,” with a tip of her hand, “to Briala's network here. And we didn't have none, before, but it certainly doesn't hurt to cultivate. I wasn't sure if my name was going to help or hinder me, to be frank, but I think ...”

She thinks that she is having too nice a time, curled up with him, to start unpacking the way that Alix having not cursed her name to all and sundry has offered a hint of relief to an old wound she has only grown accustomed to the sluggish bleed of.

“I don't know that I could ask much of them, right now,” she says, eventually. “But it's an avenue. Potential.”