Silence and secrets were her bread and tea. She drank the secrets in sips, the first to pinpoint the flavor, the second to appreciate, and the third to let her taste buds savor and bask. Sometimes it was…unpleasant. Sometimes, the secrets decided to taste bitter and leave a stench to remind her tongue each and every taste. As one often does, she ignores it and asks for another cup, thank you very much, I must commend you on the brew; thirst was thirst.
But silence, ah, silence was different. Left to bake on its own the silence is suddenly hard to chew, suddenly something that became too thick, too hard, too solid to taste. She liked crumpets and biscuits more, if you wouldn't mind her asking.
Actually, tea was ancient nowadays—and she was a modern, upstanding, stately woman. "Bring on the sake!"
"How can you always have an excuse for drinking?!"