She'll wait around in case Denice turns out to need anything.

She's not quick about it, but the door opens again before a particularly unreasonable amount of time has passed.

No need for her to hurry.

Well, here she is, anyway, looking tense, nervous, and a little shaky, but at least much improved from the earlier panic. Now what?

Is she going back to the room?

Nope. She seems to be waiting to see what Heria is going to do.

"Is there anything you need? You can walk around the house if you want."

"Eat?"

"I'm so sorry, yes, of course. Do you want to go to the dining room - there's a table," (she gestures in a direction) "- or shall I bring it to the room?"

Shrug.

"Ok. If you want to follow me I'll be going by the dining room, and if not I'll bring the food to the room. Either one is very alright and I won't mind if you change your mind later." She goes toward the kitchen.

She follows.

Here is the dining room. It has a table and chairs. She can stay there, or follow Heria to the kitchen.

Standing is not actually something she wants to be doing right now; it's a bit of an effort not to collapse. She sits at the table and looks around the room.

Dining room! More windows, and decorations on the walls, and its own toy corner. Various extra chairs around the walls. 

And presently Heria comes in with some food and more water. It's all non-utensil food - there's soup but it's equipped to be drunk. It's set out to be customizable - various things you can put or not put on a sandwich, that kind of thing. Portion-controlled for the careful-with-amount-post-malnutrition issue. 

"If you would rather be able to choose more, I can bring more options. Nod if you want that. Otherwise, if you don't want to eat something here I'll just replace it."

She doesn't respond to that, but starts eating, methodically: she doesn't seem to realize that the extra ingredients are meant to go on the sandwiches, but eats them anyway once the sandwiches are gone, finishing each before moving on to the next; she seems to think that the soup is a beverage.

She doesn't rush, but she doesn't stop, either, until her plate is clean.

Those are fine ways to eat. And when she's done?

She sits, staring off into space. (She seems calmer, now; there's still a good amount of baseline anxiety, of course, but she's not as acutely worried about things any more.)

That is something to be glad for.

She goes to clear away plates.

She doesn't object to that, and goes back to watching Heria when it's done.

"Do you want to stay here for now?"

The shrug that she answers with is probably not surprising, by now; the frustrated sigh that precedes it is new, though.

"Ok. Well, you can stay here, or go back to the room, or walk around if you want.

Is something wrong?"

"Eh."