This response made her irrationally exasperated, though honestly it probably had less to do with the comment itself and more to do with everything that had come before it.

"Who keeps tea without keeping biscuits?" she demanded angrily. She had half a mind to storm over to the floo and go home and get a tin herself (the Binns pantry was always well stocked with these sorts of things), but she had the presence of mind to recognize that it would be ridiculous to leave and come back over something so inconsequential, on the surface of things.

"You," Juliana said, turning on the couch and bringing one leg up beneath her so that she was facing him, in a very similar fashion to what he'd done to her earlier. This was actually what she was angry about, not the biscuits, and now that she'd decided to say it all the words spilled out in one quick speech. "Need healthier coping mechanisms. You should not be relying on a woman you only met two weeks ago to talk you through your — well, whatever you think we need to talk about," she said. "This is not my job. I'm not responsible for your well-being, just because you happened across me in that garden and we were seen together. And you shouldn't be sitting there drinking whiskey and contemplating stupid, impulsive things because I said something mean to you one time," she finished.

(Well, it had been more than one time — but the point stood).