"I think there's a third sort to it, actually. Because there are ones that are nice, too, though they come very seldom," she answers, instinctively glancing in his direction when she feels that touch, but there's nothing intrusive about the fingertips resting so lightly on her arm--and there's something almost familiar in it, something she remembers from friends she'd known long before Nigel. Under normal circumstances, she might've found herself a touch flustered, given Nigel's closeness and his tendency to stare; today, with a curse like this one lingering over her head, she sees the other side of it, the boy who came all the way back from the library just so she wouldn't be alone. "They let me see my brother, once, on our birthday last year. I suppose that could've been a tragic one, in a sense, but...it wasn't. It was nice."

Then, with a slight smile, she retrieves the tea and turns in place, holding it up a bit for Nigel's inspection. "And no, I...as silly as it sounds, I hate to feel like a bother to Miss Saya. She always seems so busy, and..." And I understand her less than I do you, she wants to say, but there's really no polite way of mentioning it. As nice as she is, there's a certain coldness to Saya, a distance that Rosella can identify but somehow can't explain. And somehow she suspects that as embarrassed as she feels today, telling Saya about it would only result in her feeling even moreso. "Which isn't to say that you weren't busy, just that...well, I thought it'd bother you less, I suppose. If I did."