She makes a mental note of his preferences, and almost immediately feels like an idiot -- as if it's certain to come up in the future, as if there will even be one. Even without Darrow's fickle nature to contend with, she still doesn't believe this will last any longer than it takes for Thomas to realize what a laughable mistake he's made, taking an interest in her in the first place.

But, well... you never know. And after the gracious discount he gave her on Saoirse's present, it might not hurt to get him a little something in return.

"That sounds perfect," she says, setting the menu down and sitting back. She's enjoyed chai before, and while she hasn't had it blended with a green, she's curious to see how it will turn out.

With the tea decided, the myriad ways this conversation might go sprawl before her in a paralyzing maze. She ought to say something, justify her presence here even if it wasn't exactly her idea. If she were a Lady, she'd probably have no less than five inoffensive starters in her back pocket. She looks at him, floundering, wishing he'd just get to the punchline. Out of desperation, she abruptly says, "You're certainly looking sharp."

The unintentional pun registers half a second later, and she buries her face in her hands with a quiet, exasperated, "Oh, god."