The thing about grieving is that Greta doesn't know how Grantaire does it, and in the pause between him saying her name and his assent, the possibility that he might just shut the door in her face looms large. She knows that she's imposing, and that this might be a particularly bad time (if not a generally bad time). But then he steps back to admit her, and a little tension leaves her shoulders.

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't," she says, her tone softening. She might channel her anxiety into stress-cleaning, but that isn't necessarily the norm. She steps inside, looking around for a likely place to start unpacking her assorted offerings. "I wasn't sure how well you'd been feeding yourselves, given... well, everything, so I did a bit of baking," she adds. "Are you hungry?"