"Is that so? Then you'd better sit down too," Claude says, gesturing down at the table he had been sitting and writing at. Seeing the mess on the table preventing them from relaxing comfortably, he frowns... and promptly picks up all the papers and drops them directly on the floor, nodding approvingly as though he had made some concerted effort to tidy up and hadn't just moved mess from one spot to the next. It is how he has always lived, he'll gladly admit, and how he will continue to live; he has never been in any place where he didn't feel comfortable having papers, herbs, bottles, books and all other sorts of doodads spread willy nilly around the floor. He intends to tidy it up before he turns the apothecary into a functional business, but that's a problem for future Claude.

He takes the kettle and hooks it above the fire, busying himself with a couple of mugs (only one chipped along the rim; he takes it for himself) and props a few jars of tealeaves in front of Ethlyn. "Give them a smell and see which one you'd like."

For himself, he grabs a tea made up of what appear to be pine needles, a strong, earthy, herbaceous scent that is almost certainly not to everyone's liking. Whichever Ethlyn chooses, Claude is quick to prepare a couple of mugs for the both of them, and soon they're both seated with steaming mugs in front of them.

"There. Now. What is it that you wanted to talk about?"