Xichen rises to fetch the washed cups from the ledge that provides a shelf for such items.

"He speaks nothing of you," he elaborates patiently, "and avoids conversation of you, which leads me to believe he still holds you in high esteem. More so than what I understood back home, given your ... two years together.

"It is your business, of course, and I don't wish to pry."

Turning the cups over, he offers them once having checked they have dried. His tone is calm and measured, polite but with an earnest edge controlled from years spent exuding decorum.

"But I hope, in the case of there being something either of you need to say, you will at least consider me a confidant."