houseofcards_rp | [ota, aimed at Chives] It's pronounced TAY-uh-TAH-may

Isadore has once more made her way to Spade Castle (odd, isn't it?), this time with tea in tow. She made Chives a promise, and the start of a new month seems an apt time to keep it.

She's not sure how far she'll get in setting up the tasting before the butler's senses are pinged, or perhaps some other Spade will walk in on her. Either way, she'll begin by setting the water on to boil and setting up her strainers, lighteners and sweeteners. She's picked a simple sample menu--five teas, each served two different ways. A nice range of flavors for someone who's only used to things one way.

First, the black tea, served black in one cup and with a dash of milk and a spook of sugar in the other. Then, green tea, with honey and lemon beside lightly sugared. Third, a brown rice tea, served with milk and with unrefined or 'raw' sugar. Next, Earl Grey, served in the same styles as the black tea. Last, peppermint tea, served with sugar and with a peppermint stick rather than a spoon to stir with.

She's fairly certain the whimsy of the last one will be lost on Chives. But perhaps some other Spade would come along and enjoy it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It doesn't matter how Off he's been since returning home. It doesn't matter how he Actually hasn't slept in Days rather than stealing his usual few hours here and there. It doesn't matter that, when it happens, his mind is occupied with setting a meal for a particularly fussy Seven.

The Second a kettle he hasn't Set himself touches the stove, He Knows.

And will appear within Moments, the picture of his Usual Self, eyes flashing faintly and spine entirely stiff.

"...Miss Two."

"Mister Chives. I brought teas." As in more than one. As in, she's keeping her promise to offer him teas to taste. As in, she really wants his opinion about what he likes.

Not what he thinks is proper, but what he actually enjoys.

...well. That's That, isn't it.

"...I see."

It will take a Moment to work his head into proper Shape around this. She'll at least give him the Dignity of getting the Service prepared. An old one, polished but infrequently used.

And not mind him also Setting Water to Boil. A pot will need to Vanish up to some Tens soon.

That's Perfectly Fine--and she won't even bother him with Needless Chatter. She's taking her cues from him, quiet and still. There's a tidiness to her that's not typical, cleaning up after herself, before herself. Of course, Chives. She didn't track mud in today. She's not messing in the kitchen.

That's something, at least. He doesn't ask for Much, really, and it's always encouraging when he receives that little bit he Needs, no fuss.

Once his own Kitchen Life is Sorted, of course, he'll move to examine what she's brought with long careful fingers and appropriate attentiveness.

"...brown rice, Miss?"

"Questioning my judgment in bringing it, or inquiring about the variety itself?" She knows he's a Chives and probably has forgotten more about tea than she'll ever learn in her life, but she's not certain exactly what he means by the question.

"It's fairly rare, here, Miss."

Not that he's judging things. He'd never judge things just because they're New or Outside or Wrong in every way.

It's not like he's a Chives.

"Which was why I thought you might not have had the opportunity." And she's just some upstart Outisder, making waves again.

Thank Spades he's a Patient man, really.

"Does novelty increase desirability?"

It's not a tack that works particularly well with This Sort of Old Family, after all. Although, if ever there were a time to nudge This Particular Chvies out of his familial Rut, well... this might be it.

"Personal preference increases desirability, Chives. Taste it." She will try, dear lord. She'll try.

He will, of course, Taste it. And, as ever, his face will remain an unreadable and Blank.

"Mm."

"Mm. Too sweet? Too nutty? Too weak?"

Help her figure out what direction to move in, please?

There's the briefest Silence, his gloved fingers drumming soundlessly on the rim of the cup. "...I'm not really partial to change, Miss."

And strong red tea was simply what he'd been Taught as Normal.

"This isn't about the change. It's about the flavor. The rich, nutty undertones of the brown rice. The almost tannic notes of the Earl Grey and the black. The floral and herbal scent of the green and the peppermint."

She's trying to make them sound enticing.

"That's not entirely the point of tea, though, Mistress." Not for the Chives Family. Perhaps it wasn't Entirely Unimportant, but not what they were Trained to care about uber alles.

"What point is greater than enjoying your tea?" She's trying to figure him out, but not really understanding,\.

It will take Time. And Force. He's particularly Ill-Equipped when it comes to Talking beyond bland platitudes.

But, you know. Clubs are good at Force.

"...other people."

She shakes her head. "This time, you're the other people. And I'm here, to serve you."

Surely, Surely, he doesn't need to actually Say Anything for it to make sense to her that he's trying Not to focus on that aspect of the moment. Just... tapping a teacup.

She says nothing more, just offering him the next cup to try.

Green with honey and lemon will, actually, get a mildly surprised little sound of Approval before he sets it down. If she can handle non-verbal assessment, she might just find his Taste after all.

She makes a soft, almost teasing mm? in response, then offers the peppermint.

Peppermint? That will get lifted to his lips and set straight back down without having had a single sip.

He just Knows.

[ota, aimed at Chives] It's pronounced TAY-uh-TAH-may

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