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You weren’t much one for <span class="mu-i">gentlemanly</span> behavior, but if you reframed it as <span class="mu-i">knightly</span>, you could sigh to yourself and accept having your chair pulled out for you as something you liked. So, you sat across from Magnus, and brushed your hand over the laminated menu. The items were listed in deep red handwritten script on a deep cream background, like antique paper. Perhaps they were antiques, but it was impossible for somebody like you to tell with these places.
Magnus had become instantly engrossed by the list, but you flicked your eyes back and forth to him. When it came to tea, you planned to just have what he had. An indignant growl from your gun made you keenly aware of its emptiness, though, and your eyes went further down the menu page to the pastries. They were all cool or chilled in nature. Finger sandwiches, each with a different sort of sweet filling of whipped cream and fruit preserves, caught the eye. They were simple and straightforward, and you’d had enough mystery food for today.
The person who collected your orders wasn’t the older man- it was a young girl, a slight young waif who couldn’t have been older than your little sister. Probably scared into hiding by the thugs that had just been run off. What a soft place this was, for people like those Sleeves to scare anybody at all.
“That tea we’re getting,” you said, “Blackberry?”
“Blackberry, sage, lavender, honey and lemon,” Magnus recited, “A sweeter profile than I usually drink.”
“Sounds like it’s got everything in it but tea leaves,” you said as you glanced out the window. Would this place stay empty as it was with the Sleeves gone? You hadn’t come here intending to do any service like that. Hell liked to bask more in heroism than money, but most of the time in the dust, mercenary work benefiting locals was more happenstance than anything.
“Strossvald would not pride itself so much on a product prepared and shipped from Zhantao,” Magnus said, “The Archduchy can preen like Emre and bluster like the Grossreich, but nobody is deluded enough to claim that they are wayward blood of the wandering dragon.”
You snickered at that. “Y’sure?”
Magnus paused. “It wouldn’t be very surprising.”
The teapot arrived, along with cups and odd mesh bags for the mix, the actual tisane being kept in its own pot- the sandwiches also arrived, and each thing was tucked into.
“If I may ask,” Magnus said, “You and Von Blum speaking with each other. Was it anything important? The two of you meeting seems…odd. Especially with what you’ve told me about your relationship. She is Von Tracht’s wife, no?”
“Huh?” You blinked, “No, <span class="mu-i">her</span> sister is. They look exactly the same, I know.”
“Hm.” Magnus made a noise of mixed puzzlement and apathy, pouring water into his teacup, steam billowing up and out. “Then you don’t even know one another.”