This being the middle of the night, Tiberius was not at his most gracious or tolerant — not that he was either of those things in any significant measure during the day, either. He was unamused by the fact that she hadn't taken her feet down, and the blatant disrespect that it demonstrated for his study (and, by extension, for him). The moth was in a jar right behind him on the shelf, but he had no intention of giving it to her while her attitude persisted.

"Go to bed," he said sternly. "Your cough can wait until morning."