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For a moment, Ophelia was truly conflicted as to what to do about Grayson expecting to hold Anya. Of course she hadn't come over to have him not be allowed to hold his daughter, but he was making her nervous the same way he had before she had left. She knew he would not hurt her, but the whole situation--his disposition, the eerie quiet in the house, and the lack of knowledge of what exactly had gone on since she had last been there--made her uneasy.

It was only reluctantly (although she hoped that would not show) that she loosened her arms around the baby and set her carefully in Grayson's outstretched arms. Anya seemed delighted and reached out to grab onto her father, seemingly oblivious to anything off about the scene taking place. After all, she was only still very small... that was one small blessing.

Before she could give into the urge to grab her daughter back, Ophelia forced herself to cross her arms tightly across her chest, fitting well with the thin line her mouth had formed as he brought up her reasons for being there.

"Dmitry," she insisted, for a moment feeling some of her old strength with him come rushing back. Ophelia really did not approve of him referring to Dmitry as 'the boy'. "And yes, I did want to ask about that. I was hoping that a week was enough time to consider, but I apologize if I've been too forceful on the matter." She sighed. "I'm just very fond of him."

Well, it wasn't a lie. Just not the whole truth.