[When Anathema dashes off toward the kitchen shelves, Sal stands and slides her torn up shirt back on. She'll give one thing to modern technology; their shirts are far softer here, and hardly make her scars itch at all. This one, she'll have to replace soon.
Once the other witch starts rattling off her extensive list of teas, it occurs to her; if anyone were to ever be similarly invited to her own place (it's in the realm of possibilities, somewhere), she'll probably be expected to have these things herself. It's a surprising thought—something she gave up on so many years ago, during the war. But now...]
Green tea's nice. I keep some jasmine at home, sometimes.
[Sal's walked over by now, peering over Anathema's shoulder. Curious, and oddly gentle.]
no subject
Once the other witch starts rattling off her extensive list of teas, it occurs to her; if anyone were to ever be similarly invited to her own place (it's in the realm of possibilities, somewhere), she'll probably be expected to have these things herself. It's a surprising thought—something she gave up on so many years ago, during the war. But now...]
Green tea's nice. I keep some jasmine at home, sometimes.
[Sal's walked over by now, peering over Anathema's shoulder. Curious, and oddly gentle.]