Nigel muses on the thought of a 'nice' curse. The phrase was already a contradiction in terms; But, as the saying went: one man's blight was another man's blessing. When he bends to inspect the tea offered to him, he is still mostly thinking on what sort of a curse would qualify as 'nice' to him. Certainly an opportunity to see Alex would be appreciated, though the eventual parting would simply leave Nigel feeling frustrated. Seeing his mother, perhaps, but those circumstances would be even more complicated. Being given the opportunity kill his father again, maybe.

Now, Nigel smiles in an approving manner, though to all outward appearances it seems as though he's simply glad to see the tea Rosella's chosen. He nods a thankful nod at her as he straightens. "That would suit me very nicely, Rosella, thank you," he tells her.

He allows her the space to go about making the tea, not offering help simply because Nigel understands that the task itself is what is important here. He folds his hands and leans with one hip against the counter, watching her -- her hands, the line of her posture, the way a curl of hair slips at her temple.

"You know you may call upon me for anything, Rosella." She was, after all, a proper princess and what would a knight be without one. "It isn't a bother. Such is the nature of friendship."