"Less than five minutes," she told him. He didn't greet her, so she didn't offer a greeting either; whatever the key was to talking to this man, she had clearly not discovered it the other day. Perhaps listening would serve her best - if, of course, he said anything to her which wasn't entirely idle. Still, she would try to play it by ear at least at first.
She poured - her cup first, but then his, too. It still tasted like colored water, but at least it smelled like flowers. She pushed the box ever so slightly towards him. "Your pie," she said shortly. "Minus one slice, which is mine. There's a knife in the box."