#scarsdale

She frowns. "That is an awfully long walk. Would you have some tea?"

"I would not wish to put thee, to any trouble, Miss." (Zara's eyes might make out the outline of the chimera, Hidden beside him. She will notice the discreet lean against it to catch his balance on occasion, or the lowered hand to it. It seems almost shapeless, a rippling amoeba-like form)

"No trouble, sir. Do you need coffee, Uncle?"

"Hmmph. I never asked him to." With regard to the creation of Chimera. "Need, no. Want, yes."

"No. I asked him to. He did it for me."

Zara sets the basket down on one of the tables - it smells of beef stew - and continues to the coffee pot and kettle.

"Wilt thou join us, Miss? An' thou hast time? Thine Uncle express'ed a few...ah. Reservations, upon the nature of the tea I have brought for thee, and the Lady. And methought I should explicate their use, ere asking it be left with thee."

"I never asked -you- to." Grumble.

"I said my memory, not so hot anymore. He should write it down."

(The whisper beside him is soft, mild, not quite chiding) "The Lady express'ed concern, of a sort I should quite be grateful, were it express'ed upon my behalf, Sir. An' I may be so bold."

"And so? You are my family, I care for and worry about you. Eat." She prepares three cups of various warm beverages.

"Fortunate is the gentleman, who has those to care of his welfare, thusly."

(A vaguely wistful tone, perhaps, in the sigh of those words, as he turns back to the teabox)

"Hmmph. Between her, Hannah, Ratchet, if I'm lucky I can get a free breath." But he takes the coffee.

"I have been told, with great authority, that breath can be o'errated." (Deadpan, accepting the cup with a murmur of thanks when it is brought over) "Generally, by those with none...so the sampling may be bias'ed, it is true."

A little finagling, and Zara carries all three cups over. "As if any of us can make you do aught you wouldn't."

"Feh."

(A sip, and a slight nod of thanks, before he sets the cup down, and waits for Zara to join them)

He slurps.

"Well, mayhaps Mama." Jeremy's tea is plain, while Zara's has cream. Hirim has black coffee with the secret spoonful of sugar. Zara unpacks the basket - beef stew, and crusty bread. "Enjoy it now. We're already cleaning, that's the last leavened."

"Hmmph." But, he eats.

(After a moment, he returns his finger to the first of the three compartments, in an old tea-box lined with threadbare green velvet) "This, Milady...is a fresh batch of the nerve-tonic tea, an' it pleases thee. Chamomile, St. John's-Wort....I rather had difficulty obtaining the pineal gland of the correct chimera, the last batch...but my usual source hath return'ed to town. I do hope the quality is better, this time." (His finger moves to the second bag of herbs. The contents smell both musty and sweet, herbal)

"Ah. That is very kind of you, sir."

"Not at all, Milady. The pleasure is mine. This one," (Indicating the second bag) "...is for thy Lady Miriam. It is merely a vitamin tea, of the sort that should have all the necessary requirements, save those that needs be obtain'ed via animal sources. Does her appetite flag, or in times of illness...it shall assist in keeping her...or thee, or another...within the proper balance, at the least." (A pause) "For our palates, I might suggest a trace of sugar...as it can be a trifle bitter." (Then his finger moves to the third bag, and the amberglass vial, dropper)

"She has been steadily improved, sir." Her tone is even enough, but grey lips curl into a pleased smile. "I have not seen you to tell of recent days." Dark eyes flick to Hirim,and she flashes him a smile, too.

Frowning, "What's that?"

"Ah?" (A slight smile in return) "I am please'd, to hear that, Miss. And....may I be forgiven so saying....thou art appearign in better..." (A beat) "...health...thine own self."

"Jeremy is a skilled apothecary. I was... I... " she falters, cheeks flushed. "I was, pardon, I know.. I know, truth, that I did not face the same stress as thee with Miriam's care. B-b-but Jeremy offered me a tea to... to sooth the nerves, to allow sleep... "

Hunched over his stew and watching them narrowly.

She studies her tea, gumming at her lower lip. "Sorry."

"I believe it is normal, Milady, in times of change....that sleep shall be interrupted. Is that not so, Sir?"

"I know I'm up four or five times a night at my age, I know that...."

"Mayhaps, then, the Lady shall see fit, to prepare thee a cup. And does it help...I can certainly find means, to prepare further batches."

"I would compensate for your efforts. And, mayhaps, could help in collecting supplies?"

"Pass." Sourly, chewing.

Her shoulders curl inwards, smile fading.

(Ah, well, Hirim can see that this one is too young still to know the angst of lumbago, or needing to pee a half dozen times a night....) "I would not turn down assistance, from any source," (Mildly) "Mayhaps, when thine own matters have settled somewhat? I should not mind, to show thee the basics, of its making, for...there are those, who understand as others do not....the soothing effect, a proper cup of tea can have, a balm against the slings and arrows, or harsh words, of fortune." (A pause) "There is one more, Miss. But, it seems, it may not be needed, after all."

Slurp.

"Aye? What is the third?"

(His whisper lowers, to a soft murmur) "Whilst far it be it from me, or any of us....to discourage nightmares, from any source, as it is what we are, and what feeds us. Yet...too much of aught, in any form....can be....unhealthy." (A pause, then adds, gently) "This is for use on nights, upon which sleep cannot be had, for nightmares, and rest is impossible. I do suggest its sparing use, Milady, for the ingredients are dear." (His finger traces the vial) "The tea is but the carrier, and made of sweetness -- honeybush and licorice root, amongst others...for the drops are quite bitter. Six drops for maximum effect, but nae more. I would begin with twa, and work up, should they be needed. There is sufficient here, for one week."

She squirms a little, quailed beneath Hirim's gaze. A glance up at the nocker, unspoken question in her eyes.

Hirim is scraping his spoon against the side of the bowl, getting the last stew up before using a piece of bread to wipe it down.

(He takes another sip of the tea, appreciatively. Then he reaches to close the box, and drape the folded muslin over the top) "At any rate, Milady. I should be going back, pardon. I did not intend, to keep thine Uncle from his work, so long."

"Please do tell me, an' aught further, is require'd?" (He steps away from the box, a hand reaching down to balance on the unseen chimera)

Hirim sucks the last of the stew from inside his mouth, glances at Zara, and nods slightly.

"Thank you for your help, sir. As always. If you see Ice, bid him well for me? I know the Lady Cogsbury demands much attention currently."

"And the vial... aye. Thank you for that, too. I think... I think you understand something of that."

"I shall, Milady. I regret to say, his visits have been nearly as curtail'ed as thine, but I shall pass along thy regards." (He inclines head first to her, then to the nocker, before starting for the door. A slight, vaguely sad smile, rueful as he goes) "Aye, Lady. Just so. I...ah...it did, at least...assist me, in refining the dosages." (A pause at the door, and a soft murmur) "Fair eve, Sir....Lady." (And then he hobbles away, an awkward yet oddly silent gait) (GoNe)

"Goodbye, sir..."

He swallows. "Weird, even for a sluagh."