"I think I'd prefer the yard." It's nice outside, his home is rather sparse, and he's not feeling a 'other person in my house' day.

"Feel free to take a seat on the porch. I'll go get the kettle." For the briefest moment he slips inside, then back out; the open window does show that the door leads directly into the kitchen. He has a tray with a small teapot and matching cups.

He sets it down, and the smell of it is divine; it's certainly a tea that's expensive. "I hope you don't mind if I went ahead and took the liberty of brewing one of my favorites? It's, ah, an oolong."