[It's easily to lose oneself through the merciless beats of their work. Frankly, Ciel herself deserves no respite, and she knows this. But she is not by herself, she is not working alone. They are a team, dysfunctional as many may be, and they have to ride this out together regardless of what they must endure, and how the chips fall in the end.

So she persists, and repeats the motions she already knows. The rhythm of everyday living: not meandering through the days because one is alive, but soaking up what it offers and going along with the dance for the purpose of something that necessitates moving forward. This little afternoon tea session is part of that, for what it's worth; it's doing things and taking part in social interactions, for what it's worth.]

That's good to hear. They do work hard in our best interest, but some among our ranks are unfortunately negligent enough to skip meals or eat irregularly despite their retainers' best efforts. [Wonder who she's talking about... She doesn't dwell though, taking a sip of her tea as she motors on. It's chamomile, the color a warm honey-hued glow.

And he gets straight to business. He's... changed, hasn't he. What parts had he lost, before anyone else he's met here could even come to identify the pieces that made him whole?]

It's the talk of Achamoth, yes.

[So much for keeping work and personal life separate.]