Saff watched with a bleary gaze as he started to prepare their cups of tea - and saw as his hand paused as it hovered over the chamomile tin, as if someone had cast a paralyzing spell on him. She blinked and looked around the setting to see what might have caused his hesitation. Was there a spider in the tin? Had the water started to overflow? If she had been much more awake, she might have asked him what was the matter, and if she might be able to lend him a hand. But it was the simple act of making tea, for Merlin’s sake. Everyone in Great Britain knew how to make a cup since infancy; not that she was getting impatient with the kind man’s gesture. It was more so that her brain, usually so quick at coming up with questions and solutions, seemed to freeze at the same time, so the result ended up being the two of them staring at the chamomile tin until he finally seemed to find his voice and -

Ask her what her preference was for tea.

Merlin’s Trousers, Saffy was so far gone by now. She’d just tumbled head first into overthinking why a kind stranger was helping her with making a cup of tea. Wondering what had made him hesitate, and spiraling from there, when it all amounted to him wanting to ask her preference as opposed to assuming.

She really needed to get some sleep.

“Chamomile is perfect, thank you,” She managed to find her own voice, hoarse from talking to doctors, her family and friends all day.