"How's she doing?" Troy glanced back as he turned the corner into the kitchen, where the kettle was just about ready to whistle. He turned down the heat and went rummaging for mugs. "You're allowed to be ridiculous if your friend's been hurt. I'd probably be off my head in your place, so don't worry about it."
Troy pulled out the white tea for himself, because he was trouble enough after nine without caffeine. He held up two boxes for Jean: a plain black tea or the white, which was some sort of white tea/cranberry blend.