[ No, she hadn't asked for it, and he hadn't asked for hers, and maybe that's the way it should stay. She has a number of names on retainer that she could select from if she was inclined to offer a false one, although within the walls of this castle, under the watch of the mages responsible for bringing them here, she can't be certain it will be a secret long-kept. Another flick of deception there may be little point to.

He hasn't moved, has apparently not shifted an inch since she took her leave, but the cane in his lap turns agile enough. Its hook snares the leg of the table catching light beneath the window, and she doesn't move from where she stands, only tracking dark eyes after the table's progress. Closer, close enough to serve between two people, and it grates only briefly against the floor. ]

Death it is, then. Until we switch.

[ Then she could be Death and him the Empress. While his wordless directive is somewhat less courteous than she is accustomed to, she sets the tray down without remark. Then, drawing up a second chair, decidedly less cherished than the one he himself has taken, she drops neatly to sit, reaching to dole out steaming tea into each cup. ]

That cane didn't originally belong to you, or else you originally belonged to this castle.