Tucker hummed in agreement as he continued to peel his clementine, the scent of it calming him as it wafted up to him. He'd always loved citrus, and Beau was right -- the lack of "small comforts" was rather disruptive. It made him feel better to have the familiar weight of the fruit in his hand, the texture of the peel under his fingernails as he opened it in an artful, unbroken spiral. He hummed a little deeper at the mention of Viola and control.
"She is that," he acknowledged (graciously). "Though Clove knows controlling that many Aurellians at once must be a real challenge, especially when they're ill." He shuddered a little, almost breaking his peeling pattern before righting his course. "You'll have to excuse our skeleton staff, but I'm sure your house is suffering much more, is it not? You've got more of them on staff, I think. To say nothing of losing your whole house." He shook his head sympathetically. "You'll have to burn a lot of linens, I expect. We certainly have." He tilted his head curiously. "Have your parents written you? They must be worried."