Her head tilted imperceptibly into that brief caress. For a man who regularly, perhaps purposely called those around him by the wrong name, to hear her request was watching him break a pattern. But her name, her real name, which was not even one her aunt used, was a spoken reminder to be herself. A reminder that she didn't have to be Anthea, that she didn't have to distract, to fight and hide and sway, and a dozen other things she did to manipulate and trick those around her. Anthea was a tool to be used to get what was needed, and Anna... She hadn't been Anna in a long time, would forget how if she kept on the mask and without a reminder, she would slip back into a roll that had been perfected over the years.

"Thank you."