He scoots the blood-tea away from him with a huff of relief. She's just saving herself from a very goopy lesson in purification, but, you know, it's the thought that counts.

"Thanks." He empties his cupful back into the pot, frowns at the residue, taps the edge of the cup with his thumbnail— it makes a little tink tink tink sound— and the rest just sort of schlorps together into one big droplet. This he also deposits back in the cup. Then he pours himself some tea as though nothing weird just happened.

"Hey, you've been at it longer than me. Your speculation is more than I've got."