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Ysalwen steps through the front door, looking lighter and less troubled than she has in weeks. Having your apprentice settled into a Tal-Vashoth mercenary team -- the Valo-Kas, as it happens -- will do that. Particularly given that they are newly formed, though taking in members of several different mercenary bands with a great deal of experience.

Meraad liked them, and James found very little to complain about with any of its members, so.

Ysalwen settles herself at a corner booth, pulling out her tablet-book and pulling up three holographic windows. One contains a complicated nuclear decay simulation, another has some sort of energetics equations on it, and the third is playing Die Hard. She's been told it's a quite interesting play, and so.

Liranan has settled underneath her chair, ready to take a nap while she works. He may come out when the movie's gunfire starts, or he might just roll his eyes and go back to sleep.

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"It's all right, truly."

A pause.

"Do you have the makings of tea up here? Even if you just have the leaves and water, I can provide the heat."

She's not feeling like alcohol just now. Perhaps later.

"I have a secret stash of sapir up here, for Chirrut," Baze says. Mentioning his friend almost sets Baze to crying again, but he keeps it together.

Barely.

He rummagea around a bottom cabinet, coming up with a green block of tea and a teapot. He fills the pot with water and sets it on the stove, gesturing to Ysalwen for her to do her thing. Then he fishes two earthenware cups out of a higher cabinet and breaks some of the tea off the block for them.

"Of course you do," Ysalwen says, quiet and affectionate.

She steps over to the stove, reaching out her hand and touching the teapot, red heat glowing at their tips for a moment.

The bubbling sound of water boiling will start up in a few moments.

Baze waits until the water fully boils, and then pours the heated liquid into the two cups. As the tea steeps, the delectable aroma of growing, living grasses fills the workshop. It's a subtle scent, so it doesn't overpower the others of yeast, apples, and alcohol, but adds to them, instead.

Baze offers Ysalwen her cup, his smile still a touch watery, but ridiculously warm. "I appreciate the conversation we've had today, though I was maudlin near the end of it."

Ysalwen takes the cup from him, smile soft and tinged with affection.

"I hope it helped. And -- "

She hesitates fractionally, taking a sip of the still-piping-hot tea.

"I wouldn't say maudlin, just in pain. And it's all right. I get that way myself, from time to time."

Baze nods. He tries to draw a breath through his stuffed-up nose, and fails. He blows on his tea, cradling the cup in both hands.

"Then, while I hope you're never in pain, maybe I can return the favor someday," he says, sniffing again. "And it did help. It will be of even more help after I've slept on it, and can look at your advice with a clear head."

"You can't live without pain, not if you care about people. I'm all right with that."

She reaches out to rest her hand on his wrist, fingers warm against his skin.

"But I will let you return the favor, when the time comes."

And oh, it will certainly come. She may not know how, or when, but horror is a way of life in Thedas. So.

"Do you need someone to watch your rest? I've wanted something like that before, after a hard time. Nightmares often seem to lurk in the wings."

"No, I have Chirrut for that," Baze says, his heart lighter when he thinks of his friend, and his tone fond to match. He pats her hand. "But thank you. And while I'm not looking forward to your facing something like that, I do hope I can help you like you've helped me today."

He reaches out and loops one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close for a quick squeeze. "I'm so glad you're my friend, Ysalwen."

"I'm sure you will. And I'm glad you have Chirrut, before, and most especially here."

She leans into the squeeze, wrapping her arm around his waist for a second and hugging back.

"I'm glad you're my friend, too, Baze. Rest assured of that."

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