Ivan
I won't lie, I'm impatient. If I have to, I can let my mind be still, even as crowded as it's been lately, but it's harder to do when I don't feel there's a good reason. If I were on a mission, I wouldn't hesitate, but afternoon tea isn't that. Unfortunately, Leviathan seems to have abundant patience and likes using it. He doesn't tell me anything until one of Melissa's servants enters with a cart. It's full of things you'd see for a fancy afternoon tea. It's insulting because the tea set looks like something Nefra would love to have at the house and warn me not to use it for soda.
The poor woman was nervous. Her hands shook as she set the trays on the table for us and poured the tea. When I thanked her, she jumped, nearly crashing the milk to the floor. She didn't speak English, but I knew she was apologizing when I caught it, a few drops falling on my arm. I tried to tell her it was fine, but Leviathan had to do it in the end, laughing at the awkwardness.
