Lenore restrains herself from commentary while Nightie bites and chews, not wanting to crack the already dangerously tentative ceasefire. She turns the cake to offer the next side of it so that her fingertips can still stay relatively safe, and then lets go on the third bite, letting her figure out how to get the whole remaining chunk into her mouth and chewed. "Good girl," Lenore murmurs, once her hands are safely out of the biting zone. She turns and goes back to the basket by the chair and takes out a wooden thermos, cleverly carved with a cap that screws off, the inside of it lined with copper.

Bringing back the open thermos, Lenore holds it for a moment so that the smell of it wafts out. Hot tea with a splash of lemon and a drizzle of honey, some brandy to add to the warmth and richness of it. It smells of herbs and spices, but it's brewed thin so that the honey and brandy can shine, and because the real purpose of this is to get their captive hydrated a bit but also to make it irresistible and luxurious, to teach her that nice things come with cooperation. "Open up."

Lenore holds the thermos out, keeping hold of the base of it so that her fingers remain out of reach while she tips it toward Nightie's mouth.