There is a brief moment in which the Fool's eyebrows bend into a puzzled furrow, and then--"oh, the tea, of course," and he touches Devin's cheek once more in wordless apology before he steps back into his kitchenette to finish the task he'd started only moments ago. The kettle is still hot from recently boiled water; had it truly taken so little time for so much to change? A bit giddy, the Fool can't stop himself from smiling as he pours first one cup, then the next. Milk and sugar he sets out for Devin to make use of, or not, as he so desires.

"...I've no idea what to do now."

"You might try drinking this before it gets cold." The Fool's suggestion is coupled with a wry little smile, a humorous glitter in his eyes. Then his expression softens and he considers Devin in thoughtful silence for a moment. "Must you do anything?" he asks quietly.