"Of course, by adapting, I also meant putting up with."

Clunk. The polished black cane whips up and is set down again, heavy silver end upon the table. Lucius sits down, finally, once his younger analog had done so first, fussing sleeves out the way and happy to maintain that little bit of distance, positioned as if they were strangers who happened to be sharing tea at a table as opposed to two men about to engage in conversation. For all that it has some inevitability.

For all that they aren't strangers. At all. "We had a good enough conversation," he says, pulling tea cup over closer. "She mentioned that she and yourself had been through this before." The cup is collected up, but before he sips from it, he adds, "This is my first foray."