Appropriate or not, he feels a certain electricity pass between them in the shared gaze. There's no erasing what happened or how close to the surface it still sits without the need of a red charm or energy.

He takes the cup. His skin tingles long after the short contact ends. He watches her hands, notes the sugar. Thinks about and then quickly discards the idea of how she would taste sweet with tea still fragrant across her lips.

He doesn't yet lift his cup in turn. He wants no tremor to betray his completely inappropriate tension. "Then you have me at your disposal. Most of what I'd say is contained within the letter. I'll gladly hear you out."