[ It isn't anything that someone with their eyes open wouldn't notice, but his own observation is not noted with any genuine praise, and she is more concerned, at any rate, with how the cane seems to serve as a blockade. When she takes her own seat, it is removed from his lap. Those few moments when she'd dared too near, even with no ill intent, this unremarkable man had gone rigid with distaste. Not overtly - he has too firm a grip on the reins of his demeanor to reveal so much - but it is there nonetheless, in his handling of the cane, and with that aloof humor that carries his words. ]

Perhaps you and this stick will achieve some measure of affection in your arranged union. [ She gives it another glance, gently returning the pot to the tray. ] Endowed with some magic, maybe? Or else it will serve as a bludgeon, for how you seem to fear anyone approaching.

[ He can't be blamed for that. It is too early to know who to trust, if any of the mages can be trusted at all. A cage is still a cage, no matter how enticing its comforts.

And a lie may well still be a lie, no matter how eloquently and evenly it is spoken, and from his smile her gaze lifts to the ceiling, veering as close to a roll of the eyes as ingrained courtesy will allow. ]

No more than you could tell whether or not I'd poisoned the tea, I suppose. What ails you? Aside from the imminent poison, I mean.