His not-quite-smile is nevertheless a welcome change from the look of stricken pain that he'd worn when they'd last parted ways, and the sight of it is heartening. The Fool's own wry smile at that offer quirks up the corners of his lips knowingly; if he's having trouble? the look might as well say. Devin has eyes--surely he can see the pitiful state of the plants for himself.

Then he gets to the meat of the matter, and what choice does the Fool have but to grow still, though he can hardly call himself surprised by the development. He drops his eyes from Devin's to consider the plant that has been gifted to him, touches one of the leaves with gentle fondness once, then steps away from the window and towards the kitchenette.

"Rusty or no," he allows, "I am always glad for your company. Tea?" Already he has removed the tin from one of the cupboards, as well as two cups, when he glances back to Devin again; it is far easier to go through the motions of something so simple and familiar than to wait motionless for words that might break his heart.