[ She quickly decides that conversation was somehow infinitely easier in text. Although she wonders if she'd been this red (she knew she was; it was the sort of flush that made you feel warm and uncomfortable from the inside out) when it came to texting? Likely not as much, at least not to the extent it made her flustered.

Quistis just needed to pull herself together. Blushing school girl had never been like her, but the teasing hadn't quite been her, either. It was just foreign to like someone and have them maybe possibly like her in return -- at least anyone she genuinely felt something for, anyway. (Except for Malik. Whatever happened to him? She felt so at ease with him... they must have broken up, right? Somehow it seems to slip her mind where and when that happened. Then that thought slips her mind, like it was never there. Strange.)

She finds herself pouring the tea now, allowing the warmth of the pot to soothe her nerves. ]

Hm? Oh, no. [ A beat. ] Not that I cannot, just that I don't often find the time with two full-time jobs. If I had known I'd have company, I likely would have tried. It's not too difficult, just time consuming. [ Mostly in the clean-up and preparation, not so much actually the putting together and baking. ] I'm not much of a homemaker. I'm not very... maternal or affectionate or any of those sorts of things. Being analytical and logical earns me labels like "Ice Queen" -- though I'm not really that cold. I don't think, anyway.

[ She gently pushes the teacup and saucer toward him, in addition to a small plate with which he may dish out any snacks for himself. There three containers in the middle of the table: a plain white container of cream, one of sugar cubes, and another of honey. She assumes he'll also help himself to those, if he so chooses. ]