( a tip of her head. a non-verbal acknowledgement of polite niceties. )

Perhaps, should the hour strike. We all have our preferred forests to get lost in.

( and his happens to be one she rarely frequents.

another soft chime of rings on porcelain, her hand cradling her cup. odd how the tea never seems to cool, but she's hardly one to make comment over broken laws of physical sciences at this point. )

Though I imagine plenty have taken up the offer. Must keep you busy.