They reach an agreeable compromise.

Vasilia will boil the water, fetch a teapot and cups and plates, make a whole tray of tea cookies, remain perfectly composed when she has to make them again, set the table, hold Dolce on her lap, feed him one dainty nibble at a time, run her claws through his wool, snack on his ears, and tell him absolutely every piece of news, gossip, and goings-on that she has somehow managed to collect and retain in-between praying for his safe return.

Dolce will steep and pour the tea. He knows just how she likes it. And he will give her every excuse to keep talking.

What did she say dear Ember wore to the festival? Quite impressive, to be able to slip off into the night with Mosaic while looking so radiant. She was always so talented at sneakery.

And the fireworks were quiet? Really! Oh, do tell…