Sina's return had not seen a dissipation of all the restless energy he'd invested into the search for her over the past weeks, but it had caused it to be redirected. He'd started (and quickly abandoned) half a dozen different ideas in his workshop since Monday, and this morning he'd been up before the sun with an idea that had quite inconveniently occurred to him at half past three and refused to leave. He'd worked through breakfast, and had eventually taken a break when he'd grown unable to ignore the complaints of his stomach and unable to continue troubleshooting the particular roadblock he'd encountered. When Christabel entered the sitting room he was sat next to a tea tray, a slice of buttered toast between his teeth. He took his time chewing as he surveyed the scene and tried to figure out what she was so wound up about. The Witch Weekly ordeal seemed like a proper lifetime ago at this point, so it took longer than it perhaps might otherwise have to put the pieces together.

"You seem annoyed," he observed dryly, taking another bite of his toast.

---