No objection comes- rather, another one of those silences of hers. Though she's not really a talkative thing under any circumstance, is she? Eirene breathes out, and nods, as though to herself. That's not Pullo. That's someone who looks very, very like him, and she needs to get over it.

Or suppress it until she can deal with this.

"Eirene," she says, "Sorry I--drop this--"

Martel already has the books handled. She thinks she should get out of this room, which requires walking, which requires coherent thought and not shattering into tiny pieces, even though that sort of feels like what's actually happening. She looks to Martel for dismissal.