Edmund, upon such ceremonious arrival, chuckled and slid into the upholstered chair facing Zexion, still bedecked in scarf and sweater (though his coat had been shed at the door) and a vigorous rosiness to cheeks and nose, as befit any good Englishman. Of all the places to get a warm cup in town, this was certainly the most intriguing. Scrupulously mannered to all appearances, and an authentically appetizing menu of brews and bonbons to tempt the palate, yet the appeal of the forbidden was almost maddening at times.

"It happens to the best of us," he said with a benevolent grin, like a friendly priest doling out dispensation to his penitent parishioner for a rather innocuous confession. Coy tongue notwithstanding. Zexion was always so neat, how did that little bit of liquid bedew his face? "What is it about chocolate that seems so heartening in this weather?"

Tea was cozy, to be sure, but a mug of warm cocoa simply made all things better no matter how fierce the blizzard or bitter the wind. He reached eager for the empty cup on his side of the table, and the elegant little pitcher full of steaming chocolate. The sweets would simply have to wait a moment. "Quite a feat, coming out in this weather. I would suspect you of cheating with a Corridor, but your nose is plenty evidence to the contrary." A sly look and a hint of a wink over his first sip (ahhh heavenly), for he knows his own nose is even pinker if possible, and he has no such measures as Corridors at his disposal.