"Your hands seem steady enough to me," he says, lifting the mug just to indicate Bodhi's. He'd handled the tea set with calm and competence, perhaps a muscle memory that circumvented the fogs and squalls of his mind.

Looking into his mug, he ignores the shape at the bottom of his cup. "I could teach you both--about the symbols in the dregs, and if you want to help when I cook dinner, I wouldn't mind."