[There. That makes her laugh - a hoarse, delighted noise that's at least half scoff. She leans forward to the tray, fetching up the small tongs and sets a cube of sugar into her cup. She does the same for the second cup - if she knows nothing else about the man, she at least is familiar with how Gray takes his tea - and pours the tea over.]
Another six hundred, perhaps. [She stirs his cup, leaving the small spoon in it as she passes it to him.] God forbid.
[Here, in some comfortable parlor not a significant walk from the shadow of Westminster, it isn't so difficult to be fine with the idea - that six centuries later they might both still be playing this game. But the world is changing - electricity and the automobile, Nikola's beautiful guns; she likes to think these things are carried by a wind of change. But she knows while down in the underground or sending her uniform to have the blood washed from it that even another hundred years of this feels-- tiring.]
no subject
Another six hundred, perhaps. [She stirs his cup, leaving the small spoon in it as she passes it to him.] God forbid.
[Here, in some comfortable parlor not a significant walk from the shadow of Westminster, it isn't so difficult to be fine with the idea - that six centuries later they might both still be playing this game. But the world is changing - electricity and the automobile, Nikola's beautiful guns; she likes to think these things are carried by a wind of change. But she knows while down in the underground or sending her uniform to have the blood washed from it that even another hundred years of this feels-- tiring.]