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Sothis, How's That?

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"Have tea with me."

The professor's adamant invitation strikes Shamir more as a demand than an invite, yet it does not deter her from humoring him. If anything, she finds his forwardness somewhat compelling.

Only after the tea has been poured do the teachers realize that they both have a lot in common.

"Hm..."

"Hm..."

Which is to say neither of them are particularly lively. The dreadful silence that ensues is only a product of their evenly-matched aloofness.

Sothis munches on a sweet tart under the table, her hiding spot for the day. "Your past tea parties were quite reliant on the opposite party, weren't they? How very one-sided. Oh, whatever shall you do now? The two of you are not just tiresome, but equally tiresome indeed!"

Neither of them utter a word for fear of the other suddenly speaking, not that they have much to say to begin with.

"You could discuss how the both of you actively partake in the rearing of child soldiers," Sothis suggests. Byleth kicks her.

All seems lost until Shamir breaks through.

"Sorry," she sighs. "I'm... not much for conversation. I'll gladly leave if you're bored."

"No," Byleth sips his tea. "This is fine."

And flops onto the table so that he can study her with an unparalleled intensity.

"This is also fine," he remarks amidst the shattering of plates, and somehow secures a follow-up engagement in the process.