She balks just slightly from the tap, wrinkling her nose as she straightens back, but that is the extent of her objection. For what could she begin to object to? She has gotten more or less everything she had wanted, save perhaps the dignity of sitting in a chair rather than on the floor, and his enthusiasm - if that is indeed the word for it - is most encouraging.

"Yes, yes. I see the logic in it now, de Foncé, and there is indeed a bottle waiting in the kitchen - you must make do with something simply white, I'm afraid - but in the mean time—"

(What could anyone possibly have to say about them as an 'us,' she cannot begin to imagine.)

Wysteria extends her cup, saying, "To something entirely new," and clinks it against Val's.