"Can't complain, I guess." She shrugs a bit. "Heater doesn't work worth a damn." Maybe she could complain, at least a bit. She moves with careful steps, still learning the house, but leads him into the living room. There's a couch, a small glass coffee table and an old tv on one wall. No fireplace, though.

"I think I've got enough in way of supplies. Assuming this doesn't decide to last for a week." She finds the arm of the couch and, from there, sits down, shooting an amused look back at Eliot. "Do you fancy yourself a savior, Eliot?" There's a note of teasing in her voice; purely a joke.