When no response came, Cordelia decided to take the chance. The room was dark, save for a few low-burning candles. Blinking in the darkness, she spotted the bed and noticed a Cedric-sized lump under several layers of blankets. She gave a slight cough to announce her presence.
“I brought you some tea,” she offered, gesturing towards the floating tea trey behind her.
Aiming her wand at the fireplace, she lit a small fire and soon busied herself preparing the tea at a nearby table. The only sounds were the soft crackling of the fire and the light clinking of china. Setting his cup on the nightstand, she conjured a chair and made herself comfortable at his bedside. Staring into the middle distance, she began stirring her tea absently.
What was there to say? What could she say?
This wasn’t exactly Cordelia’s area of expertise. And frankly, this wasn’t the first time he botched things, nor would it be the last. When he succeeded, it was marvelous. When he failed, it was catastrophic. With success, comes failure, and all that. Now how would one word that to sound more comforting? She sipped her tea thoughtfully.
“Would you like a biscuit?” she offered with a small smile.
Why was she even here? Even before their reconciliation she had been apt to ignore him entirely during these incidents. There were only so many ways to kick a man when he was down. And kick she had in the past — to the groin. Several times.
Why couldn’t he just rest?
As she bustled about his abode, he sighed, scrunching up even more for his own comfort, sulking away and hoping she’d just leave. Perhaps she was just kindly leaving snacks, but no, she was offering them like some sort of noble pest. This was much more of a Sofia thing and it was slightly off-putting. This newfound positivity was dreadful and awkward in every sense of both words.
“I’d like to be left alone.” he’d reply in full truth, still keeping himself sheltered from any potential storm. Especially one that could from from rejecting her offers.
