Once again he wishes he hadn't moved everything. There's less to do, and to fidget with. He empties and cleans the cup he left to go cold earlier, and that's it before he finds himself waiting for the kettle to boil with his hands splayed on the edge of the counter space, tapping his fingers restlessly and staring at nothing.

Lemm shoots them a long, studious glance, just to reassure himself they're staying put. And they are, reclining a bit even, which is better than he hoped. He stares back at the wall.

Twice he's brought them back here, now, and twice they've stayed, as if it was remotely a good idea. He has some strange unidentified feelings about it and for practical reasons it is time to unceremoniously ignore them. Not now. He reaches for the kettle.

Lemm returns quietly to their side with just the one teacup, filled with tea he now knows won't get drunk and only he can smell. This is not the point; the point is the cup is warm and he holds it out in front of the Knight's face in case they're zoned out enough to need prompting.

"Awkward thing, aren't you," he points out, thinking of the pillow on the counter again, and with little fuss Lemm moves one of the pillows up, tucking it behind their knees so they're no longer in danger of sliding onto the floor.