The Fool moves away and his absence invites the answer to that question. He has too much space to overthink when they're not holding the moment (even if, right now, his thoughts are all hazy at the edges). Devin busies himself with the tea, pouring in milk and studying the clouds it forms.

"I'm not particularly good at inaction," he admits. The Fool has probably noticed. Even during those months he lived alone, Devin was usually doing something in all his waking hours, even if it was simply reading. Left with only his thoughts, he tended to follow them into dark corners. Though here, of course, he'll have company. "It's not that I can't be still, it's--" Devin gestures a circle by his head, eyes downcast to the tea. "Getting this to shut off."