There's a warm feeling of relief when it becomes clear that Aurelia hadn't told him what happened. Or at least has left out the main issue out, which, knowing Aurelia, isn't all too surprising. That woman's pride is so strong and ridiculous that J could see her rather dying again than admitting that she had been hurt.

Wearing an amused grin she gives him a quick shrug and waves the air with her hand in a manner that says: Who knows.

However, the relief is very short lived and the warmth disappears as the unpleasantness settles back into her bones. He might not know what happened but he's still close. So, damn close. Her smile stretches, the mask cracking and insincerity showing, and it feels like someone just dumped a glass of cold water on her. Oh no. She isn't liking this new tone in the room a one bit.

But if there's a one thing she's good at it's distracting others and taking the control of the situation. She rolls her shoulder back and tilts her head slightly to the side as she walks to him, stretching her arms out to wrap them around his waist from the behind. Resting her head against his back she places the mug on the dresser and then opens MID again to write him while pressing a light kiss on the skin on the back of his neck:

its aurelia. who cares about what that lunatic thinks. and youll protect me right?