Calvin had been anticipating this answer, but still felt a small thrill to be acknowledged in this way, and even more to be doing something for her. At least doing something for her that she would recognize — the small ways in which he'd tried to ease her through her day before had always been invisible. He kept his expression neutral as he moved his wand to set the kettle heating, but inwardly he was delighted. He had watched her make tea for herself half a dozen times before, and had envisioned making tea for her far more than that. In his vision of their shared domestic life this was one of the many things he did for her on a daily basis, sweet and thoughtful and thankless; something she would never think to remark upon but which he would always have ready precisely when she needed it. It was instinctual to reach for the mug she'd set down on the counter with one hand while he moved his other towards the tins of tea, like muscle memory from the future. His hand was halfway towards the chamomile tin before he realized what he was doing and stopped abruptly, hand hovering in visible hesitation midair.

This entire thing was an unnecessary risk, he realized. Too many ways for this to go wrong. If he hadn't thought better of it and had added the chamomile to her mug, would she have noticed? Would she have questioned it? He might have been able to make an excuse, perhaps said her mug smelled of her last cup of tea. She might even believe him... but she would likely remember him, and this wasn't the first impression he wanted to make. Of course there was a chance she wouldn't notice — Saffron could often be distracted, especially when she was emotional like she was today. But it was a risk he shouldn't take, and he'd nearly taken it without any conscious thought at all. He hadn't properly thought through anything before he'd stood up and come over here, he recognized now. He'd seen her stand and he'd done so too, knowing he only had a small window where he could make it to the tea service before her without being seen to hurry. He hadn't thought through what he stood to gain or lose by approaching her now. He'd acted on impulse, after having spent the past five minutes thinking of how powerless he felt watching her struggle alone at the table and having not suitable pretense for offering to walk her home. But that was no excuse for being sloppy, and certainly not for jeopardizing their whole shared future together, if things got off on the wrong foot now.

He glanced at her and raised one eyebrow. "Something relaxing?" he asked, tapping one finger on the top of the chamomile tin. "Or were you looking for caffeine?"

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