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24 lamb to the slaughter
There are no words to explain the feeling in Mercy's heavy chest when Gansey calls asking if she or Ronan have seen Blue. Fortunately, she's found within the space of the day's sunlight and Mercy can breathe easy as Ronan drives them to 300 Fox Way in the shark-like BMW. The group piles into the kitchen, overloading it with warm bodies. Malory, Gansey, Adam and Ronan are at the kitchen table with Mercy perched on the corner. Persephone floats near the sink, busying her hands with strawberry and guava smelling soup and a teacup. Mercy eyes Orla as she darts in and out of the doorway, peering at Ronan through the gaps in between people. She's shooed away by Calla who's leaning broodily on the counter.
"I can't believe you aren't dead somewhere." Ronan tells Blue. "You should be dead somewhere."
Mercy elbows his side. Ronan grunts, shooting her a look of contempt.
"Thanks for your concern." Blue replies. She looks at Malory. "Professor Malory, would you like some tea?"
"I would love a cup of tea." Malory accepts her offer, looking relieved.
"Do you prefer, er, fruity or footy?" She asks. "If you were to have one or another in tea form?"
Malory considers his choice for a moment. "Footy."
"Bold choice," Blue says. "Anyone else?"
Mercy perks up. "Me too, please. Fruity for me."
Blue nods. The rest of the room shake their heads, rejecting the offer. Most have a level amount of experience with the tea station at 300 Fox Way—all eclectically collected either from their yard or at farmers' markets in brightly coloured stands. Then, chopped up and bagged according to the main ingredient or intended effect: Sleep, Love, etc.
