"If I believed that, I would likely have given in years ago," Vanessa answered, her tone just as quiet. To what, now that was the question; she did not think that the things after her meant for her to be nothing more than a nightcomer.

The kettle whistled then, and she excused herself with a small smile, stepping back into the kitchen. She came back a minute or so later, bearing a tray with tea cups, milk and sugar, and the tea seeping in a pot.

"Please, help yourself if you want any fruit," she told him with a nod at the plate, as she set the tray down beside it. The tea set was, unsurprisingly, Victorian. "The tea should be done shortly."