[In stark contrast to that last time he was in this room, that shifts subtle between something closeted and warm and airy and bright, Alit takes his cup and only then does he accept that as an invitation to take a seat. He lifts the cup experimentally from the saucer, setting it down again to mull over the extensive affects. Tea isn't exactly a foreign object so much as a foreign experience, though he makes no comment, electing to take it one step at a time.
First, he samples the tea and fines there's awful little to tempt the palette and so he starts with the sugar, mirroring the two scoops of his host. A second sip blossoms with improvement but it isn't until he pours in a bit of the cream that the full bodied bouquet shines through. He decides he likes it though not so much as to inconvenience himself over it.
He gives the drink a final swirl to take care of the latent remnants of undissolved sugar, spoon clinking audibly against the cup, before replacing it back in the sauce after a quick glance at Michael.]
As if I wasn't the one that insisted. [He continues to insist because it gives them something to talk about, something innocuously trite. Alit allows himself to relax, responding to the warmth of the room and small gestures alike. He could comment on them. The tea is a new experience -- he had admitted that much already -- and perhaps Michael would want to hear his response to that. But they came here for a reason and as he watches the steam evanesce from his cup, all hope of distraction flees along with it.]
action;
First, he samples the tea and fines there's awful little to tempt the palette and so he starts with the sugar, mirroring the two scoops of his host. A second sip blossoms with improvement but it isn't until he pours in a bit of the cream that the full bodied bouquet shines through. He decides he likes it though not so much as to inconvenience himself over it.
He gives the drink a final swirl to take care of the latent remnants of undissolved sugar, spoon clinking audibly against the cup, before replacing it back in the sauce after a quick glance at Michael.]
As if I wasn't the one that insisted. [He continues to insist because it gives them something to talk about, something innocuously trite. Alit allows himself to relax, responding to the warmth of the room and small gestures alike. He could comment on them. The tea is a new experience -- he had admitted that much already -- and perhaps Michael would want to hear his response to that. But they came here for a reason and as he watches the steam evanesce from his cup, all hope of distraction flees along with it.]
I think it's better too.