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[rowancrowned]

 

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[rowancrowned]

A splash, ( he says. he can smell the tea, a hair below over-seeped and thus perfect, and it smells delicious. he should really begin hoarding wine. )

[bouchonne]

A splash.

[ Agreeably said. He pours that splash in, and passes the cup to Thranduil. Takes a cup himself, as well, and then crosses to sit behind his desk. All still shirtless, and all without acknowledging that lack of shirt. ]

[rowancrowned]

Thank you.

( he takes the tea and inhales over the surface, eyes closed. he will continue to ignore byerly's lack of a shirt- not everyone can be so lucky to have a wife who does tiny whitework of elks along the cuffs.

the first sip curls a smile along his lips. )

[bouchonne]

[ True joy is bringing other people happiness. And also getting shitfaced by noon. ]

How is life in Research, dear fellow?

[rowancrowned]

Well enough. Our work continues, and it is done well enough.

( he lowers the cup to his lap, content to feel the warmth. )

What if yours?

[bouchonne]

Ah, this whole thing with Flint has been a dreadful pain in the arse.