Fortunately for her in that moment, Cathy always had an attachment to chamomile tea, strengthened in the month of Wolfram and Hart-induced nightmares. While then it didn't come close to successfully putting her into a deep sleep, it did at least take the edge off of battered nerves. Because she remembered very vividly the stress involved with finding herself in Los Angeles, she kept a box on hand in the Center's kitchen, moving toward the cabinet automatically when Eve made the request.
"I can do that," she told her pleasantly, moving to put the water on, then retrieve a mug from the cabinet and a tea bag from the box. Cathy was grateful for the task at hand, something tangible to focus on rather than the waves of judgment coming from the other woman.