"Go sit down, darling," he says. "I'll find my way about the kitchen. After all, feh ... it is hard to arrange a kitchen such that a kettle will remain hidden to all but its owner. And pardon me saying so, but thou give'st not no impression of having the skills necessary to really fuck up the local spacetime."
He sounds as though he's talking from experience. Throwing out calculated conversational sallies — wishing to put Fever at ease, and to make this visit more than a fulfilment of a promise.
He smiles at her, a little sadly, and disappears into the kitchen, without waiting for a reply. But he leaves the door open, in case Fever wants to linger and talk, and busies himself with the kettle, and scalding the cups and finding the teaspoons.
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Anzu shakes his head.
"Go sit down, darling," he says. "I'll find my way about the kitchen. After all, feh ... it is hard to arrange a kitchen such that a kettle will remain hidden to all but its owner. And pardon me saying so, but thou give'st not no impression of having the skills necessary to really fuck up the local spacetime."
He sounds as though he's talking from experience. Throwing out calculated conversational sallies — wishing to put Fever at ease, and to make this visit more than a fulfilment of a promise.
He smiles at her, a little sadly, and disappears into the kitchen, without waiting for a reply. But he leaves the door open, in case Fever wants to linger and talk, and busies himself with the kettle, and scalding the cups and finding the teaspoons.