"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmurs, and doesn't press further. He knows a dismissal when he hears one, and she's done him the courtesy of never asking about Angela or Chuck, so he returns it by not asking about her parents.

Back to the teapot it is.

"What kind of tea are you making me drink?" he asks, and it's like little glimpses of the old Hercules are peeking through. He'd be relieved, but he's trying too hard not to think about anything.