Kindness, like many things, isn't precisely what he's for, but the chances that he wouldn't have bothered were always low. Their association is built on hearing her out, from the start. He didn't know it meant anything at the time, and the scope is still undefined, despite their negotiation and Cat's helpful delivery of intel. But she's human enough to need things, whatever else she is, and however theatrically she chooses to posit it.

"You know I'm not here for tea." Though he dutifully keeps to his role as guest and tries it anyway, assessing her while the cup hides an expression he isn't quite making. It doesn't look like she's feeling especially theatrical today, is the thing. A phoenix lacking some color. Even with only an inkling as to why, he knows it's lucky they struck such a deal that gives her such a good target for sharing secrets, even as he, quite privately, feels a little too-familiar judgment for what he feels sure is her reluctance. Stubbornness has been wrongfully applied, in all likelihood. If only he knew the extent to which she did not successfully take the beifeng baiyang poem to heart. It is a testament, yet again, to the diplomacy, how little of that creeps into his voice and manner. Since when do stories require the type of discretion usually reserved for espionaged intel. "I'm listening."