That Beau arrived so close to the appointed time was hardly a surprise to Tucker, though strangely he couldn't quite call it was relief, either. As much and as viciously as he gossiped about the Rosiers to Blair, he had found himself genuinely missing Beau when he was away in Belailles. He'd told himself that it was just simple jealousy over the fact that he got to be in Belailles instead of Tucker, but this wasn't precisely true. At least, it wasn't the complete truth. Glynn was lonely for a man of his stature, and even with Blair around for companionship, it wasn't the same as having a real compatriot who was close to his station. Viola wouldn't do, obviously. She was too pushy and too snide. And besides, it was really another male presence that Tucker craved, someone who understood the particular pressures that he was under better than any woman ever could. Beau had been good at that, once. In the wake of the bombing, not to mention this latest crisis of the outbreak, Tucker couldn't help but wonder if he would still be good at it.
Likely he would. But clearly he didn't actually want Tucker's company now, given how much he'd hedged when Tucker had so generously offered his hospitality. He was determined (at least mostly so) to keep their encounter pleasant. Or, at the very least, civil. Much as he thought Viola Rosier was a fool for allowing so many diseased Aurellians in Beau's home, even he recognized that there was something inherently noble about what she was doing in putting them all in one place (especially since it was far away from Tucker's home), and making sure to protect her brother in the process. They were doing a service for the community, and Tucker was serious about encouraging (requiring) his staff to thank the Rosiers accordingly. It was the very least that they deserved.
He'd had Irwin prepare tea the way Beau used to like it -- that was, with enough sugar to make Tuck's teeth ache -- and rose from his chair when his old friend entered the room, giving Beau a quick but genuine smile before his focus shifted immediately clementines. The bat inside him twitched its wings approvingly as he reached for one., then led him over to the pair of high-backed chairs waiting for them. He shifted his weight this way and that, choosing the exact spot to alight before sitting back down (the dog in him sighed contentedly) and lifted the fruit to his nose to scent it deeply. "I haven't had a fresh one of these since the train broke down," he said, his shoulders relaxing at the fragrance alone. "Thank you." He slit the peel with his thumbnail, beginning his meticulous process of unwrapping the fruit. "Though really, you're being generous enough as it is, taking on so many ill people. How is you managing?"