[ Is that how they're doing this. Well, surely the jar's sturdy enough for it. Emmet perks up to full attention, anyway, rousing himself enough to keep the jar from rolling anywhere it shouldn't. Tea or herbs, moment of truth...

Do they have cups, even? Is he supposed to put the leaves into the jug now, are they just using the water container as a sort of pot? That's fine, sure, he can do that, but will they be drinking out of that too? They really just rushed into this, didn't they. ]

Maybe. We should also look for smaller ... cups? Dishes? So we both can drink.

[ Maybe he'll try to look for them this time. Hopefully nothing gets dropped. Looking through the shelves again leaves him with his thoughts, but...

Something did happen, but it's fine. Nothing on that shelf. Something did happen, but they're fine. ... Aren't they? (Saucers and plates on that one.) If they aren't, then he just needs to figure out where to pick up the slack. He is Emmet. They should be okay. He should be okay. Ingo's been fine on his own, more or less, and so has he. (Oh. There they are.)

They should be better than they were, now. So why... ]

... I'm just glad you're all right. [ he says, coming back over to set carefully down the two mugs he's managed to find. His gaze stays low, fixed on the tea. ] You know. I don't remember if I said it already. Everything else, whatever else— less important than that.

It's nice, not having to wonder.