That snapped Tico's head up, at least, and he stared at her, petrified. Tea? Biscuits? He was certain that there had been nothing about such things in the phrases he had intended to say. However, considering everything, it was quite possible that what he had intended and what had come out were two very different things, and so instead of protesting he just nodded meekly. No movement towards the indicated establishment, just that one nod, but he did unfurl a little, relaxing his arms again.
“Tico,” he repeated, holding to the name as if it was a lifeline – a lousy one, to be sure, but miraculously enough to keep him from reverting back to staring. He nodded, again, and braved another word. “Good.”
The whole world had gone mad when he hadn’t been looking and, as it was that his mind was going in overdrive on the most normal of days, he wasn’t that well-equipped to deal with such confusion. First nine-year-boys floating in the air and now this. Her. Oh, Saint Mary of Seven Heavens.