[She shoots him a perplexed glance at the shaky hands comment, trying to figure out where that fits in. Too much she doesn't know; though he says it casually enough that it doesn't send her into a spiral of worry. She uncorks the bottle and pours, his glass first.]
it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works
It isn't that I don't trust you, you know.