*Blake*
Her hands are shaking, the delicate china beating out a soft clinking tattoo that irritates the devil out of me, as she pours us tea. The answer to everything. A nice cuppa tea.
Me and Merida are sitting in the chairs by the window. I take the cup she offers me, then set it on the table between us.
I know she simply needed something to occupy her while she considered all I had just said, so I had accepted her offer for tea. In truth, it doesn’t appeal to me in the least. I am tempted to stalk to my brother’s library and snatch a bottle of whiskey. That has been my answer to everything since I returned home. Create a fog within the fog.
The sun has nearly disappeared beyond the horizon. We will have to join the others for supper soon. Or perhaps I should have it delivered here.
