Celia's remark leaves Aerith wide-eyed, something she knows a wife isn't supposed to be about relations with their husband. Shifting in her chair she forces herself to look up, her expression more haughty than aghast - it's an easy defense to reach for, and something she's spent years learning how to do.

She turns her head when Balthier speaks, raising her eyebrows. "I could use the peace and quiet." Reaching for her glass Aerith finishes her ale with all the ease of the seasoned drinker she is not.

"Nice to meet you, Celia," Aerith begins, rising from her seat. "If you choose not to return him in one piece if at all, I'll understand," too fixed on getting herself out of this terrible situation Aerith's already circling the side of the table before she explains herself, talking over her shoulder as she heads out the door.

"My northerly sensibilities and I are going to the apothecary. The chef's helper needs something for his elbows back on board."