The tea was better than what was usually on hand for the passive staff; she felt a little guilty about that. A strong Hessean blend, reserved for the faculty lounge and that sort of thing. Not quite the stuff kept in reserve for important guests, but certainly better than what she normally had with breakfast. Certainly not meant for her, or—Aurelie thought uneasily—for Yazad, either. He wasn't gated, but she didn't think... Well. It was theirs now, and she did resolve to enjoy it. It was just tea, after all.
Aurelie meant to wait until Yazad had taken a scone first before she would take one herself. She was his guest, she supposed, but she had made them—or likely had—and it felt strange to take first of something she had even hypothetically made. She watched as she spread one of the linen napkins over his lap, and carefully removed one of his gloves. His hands were just as neat and orderly as the rest of him, Aurelie thought. Nails neatly trimmed, clean-scrubbed ovals at the ends of elegant fingers. Aurelie curled her hands in her lap, hiding her own nails that were really very ragged from a biting habit that had renewed in strength of late, and she made herself look away.
Instead she took a napkin and a small plate for herself, splitting the scone in half down the middle and spreading some of the clotted cream on one half. That, too, was something she didn't get to have for herself very often. A particular favorite in childhood, and she did so miss it. Her bite was careful and small, much more so than it might have been were she alone. Something about Yazad's careful polished elegance made her rather sharply aware of herself. She smiled around the bite anyway, putting her hand in front of her face and setting the rest back down on the plate.
"I'm glad you think so," she managed when she had finished swallowing. There was a little crumb at the corner of her mouth that she licked off without thinking. That was at least one of the advantages to working in a kitchen of this size—Aurelie helped a little with managing the inventory of the pantry, but it was only a bit, and largely someone else's responsibility. Helping was nice, though. She was rather better with numbers than words, at least. As long as it was something that could be tracked, measured, something that was solid and real, anyway. She did sometimes hear strains of an upper-form mathematics lecture or two, and hadn't the faintest idea what any of that meant.
"And I do enjoy listening to what you think."
Aurelie blinked and looked up, faintly stunned. Whatever for? Her thoughts weren't particularly interesting. Aurelie's lips parted, and she almost thought to say so. But rather abruptly, the office door came bursting open and in came a whirlwind that she knew was a man at first mostly because his field came with him. Her spine stiffened immediately, all her muscles tense. He scurried in and looked towards them both; unthinkingly, Aurelie looked down and tried, rather desperately, not to think about how visible she was in this moment. Herself, all of this.
She supposed some part of her knew that the only man who would come bursting in to this office was the owner and occupant himself. And also that he knew they were there, and presumably thought nothing of it. But that part was small and quiet, overwhelmed by the rest of her that was gripped with a very animal sort of terror. She should not be here, she should not be doing this. None of these things were for her, and moreover, she wasn't supposed to talk to—not supposed to be alone with—
And then he was gone. Yazad had said nothing, Sophronios had said nothing. Aurelie, indeed, had also said nothing. She couldn't have, except perhaps to mumble an apology, and even that was unlikely. When Yazad turned his dark head to look at her, she managed to look back, and she did nod. But she didn't move to do so at all, her hands balled into fists and her shoulders tight. Breathe, she reminded herself; it was fine. She just had to breathe.