The guest hall was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a golden clock on the wall. A pair of servants entered, carrying a silver tray polished enough to reflect their nervous faces. They placed it carefully on the table before Trafalgar and Garrika: a steaming pot of tea, delicate porcelain cups, and a neat arrangement of cookies stacked like little towers.
"Please enjoy while you wait," one servant murmured before bowing and retreating with the other.
Garrika wasted no time. She plucked a cookie between her claws and bit down, her ears twitching as the sweetness melted on her tongue. "Mmm. These are actually good," she said with her mouth half-full, already reaching for another.
Trafalgar, by contrast, leaned back in his chair and picked one up lazily. He took a small bite, chewing slowly. 'Damn, it is really good indeed.' He set the cookie down, and poured himself tea with the calmness of a man who owned the place.
