"I do, thank you." As the Socialite took two lumps of sugar into his tea, he turned the words the Tailor spoke around in his head. A denial that connections could ease one's mind and yet and admittance that the Socialite's previous actions had been of some relief. The tea eddied with the movement of the spoon, the sugar mixing in with the hot tea rapidly and emulsifying into the liquid. The Tailor felt they owed the Socialite and, thus, the invitation was sent. Or, perhaps, something deeper that the Tailor themselves were unaware of.

In the mere moments it took for the Socialite to take a sip of the sweetened tea, they considered what might be underneath all the contradictions. Perhaps a need for companionship unfulfilled normally? Or a fear of what companionship might cost? The process of revealing one's heart was a painful one and unnecessary for most surface level interactions, but true companionship required one to pull open their ribs and display the whole of themselves. Was there something to hide? All people had something to hide, but to be so abrasive to others, as the Tailor was in the previous class, spoke to the hidden abrasion they, themselves, carried. What had happened that the Socialite wasn't aware of and why was he suddenly so invested in the safety and health of the Tailor? Was there something he wasn't aware of in himself?

The Socialite set the cup down with a gentle tink and smiled up at the Tailor. "Delightful. If you don't mind my asking, how have you been sleeping? I should hope well, but the track record has forced such a hope to give way to reality."