It's been a long day, so Barghest is looking forward to some time resting her bones at home. The chefs she used to have at her old residence in Manchester aren't here to prepare her a meal, but that's of no consequence to her; anyone hoping to be another's spouse one day should know how to cook and fend for oneself at the very least, so they can cook for each other. And...besides that, she isn't sure that she would be able to trust anyone from that wretched hive to cook for her ever again.
She walks through the front door and sighs as she makes her way through the foyer, removing the gauntlets of her armor; cooking for herself is something of a different setting than being out and about, the armor itself tends to get stuffy if she wears it over a stove, and the gauntlets aren't quite as dexterous as she would prefer for such a task. When she passes through the entryway to the substantial area containing, among other areas, the kitchen, however, she stops. There's a human in her house--around her height, surprisingly enough, but with nowhere near the muscle or frame necessary to rival her own.
"Is...there something you need?" Barghest asks, not quite sure what to make of him. Even with her power having been sealed or drained to its current extent, there's no doubt in her mind even from a glance that she's stronger than him. Yet she doesn't find any sign in his expression of any idea that he shouldn't be here. Is this arrogance or simply a cultural difference that she's unaware of? "I don't recall inviting you into my house."