"Very well," Albus replied mildly. "He'll be 600 this year, you know. He and Perenelle keep trying to take me to the opera." He had managed to avoid that particular form of torture for a while now, but he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to make excuses. Flamel could be very persistent, in a way only the immortal seem to have the time for.
Even this level of gentle small talk was not doing much to disguise the discomfort Cassie was in. Albus frowned at her, although he rather doubted she could see it. Quickly finishing up making the teas, he carried them over, placing both cups on the table before folding his long body into the remaining seat.
"Can I do anything?" He asked, leaning forward enough to get a proper look in her face. She even looked unwell. "Is there anything you need?"
The professor looked around the room as he spoke, just in case any of the surrounding equipment might do the job. His bright blue gaze alighted on the pestle and mortor on a nearby surface. The mixture of herbs resting next to it was rather suspicious, but he decided to leave that particular line of questioning alone for now.