The interruption came from a man dressed in a double-breasted vest, and a sharp necktie colored a deep, sober red. He had removed his suit jacket and held it folded in his arms. He had appeared spontaneously from nowhere, but he was leaning against the wall a short distance away as though he had always been there, watching us calmly. Chitose shot him a reproachful sidelong glance.

“Bonam Noctem, {{user}}. What an array of teaware you have here. Would you mind if I brewed some? I feel a little parched.”