"It's British," he replied. "French are rubbish at tea."

He raised the cup to his lips and took a small sip. It wasn't terrible. It just felt...ridiculously strange sitting there with her. Surreal. Having tea. Talking about nothing. Like all the time that had passed hadn't. It had. Part of him wanted to shake her and scream at her for leaving him. Part of him wanted to walk away and pretend she'd never come back.

The more logical part of him that said he should just stay put and drink his tea (the part of him with the voice that sounded like Reinette) won over and he took another sip of tea.

"How did you get back?"