Anzu sets the full teacups down in front of Fever, and takes a seat beside her — close enough to be present, not so close as to be crowding her personal space.

He suspects he knows what this will be about. He's noticed Angel's absence. And he's been telling himself that here, disappearing in the middle of the night is probably a good thing. Or at least a neutral thing.

Maybe a little more neutral than death.

But ... a loss is a loss.

"Thou need'st speak only as much as thou wish'st, darling," he says. "And ... nu. When thou feel'st thou'rt quite done talking, I shall take my leave." He pauses. "I will call, or come by, later. But I shan't insist on staying longer than thou can'st stand."