It was irritating to stare into the teapot before him and have no way of filling it. Lessard supposed that he could have summoned a servant to fetch more tea, but none happened to pass by and so the whore was left to run a slender fingertip around the cup's rim, a small sigh passing between his lips. "Honestly... A tea room with no tea..." He muttered to himself, finally reaching for his spectacles to slide them off and cleaning their clear surface.<br/><br/>Still, the solitude was pleasant and he dark eyes scanned over the book before him with a fond smile as he pondered the newest addition to his clientele. The day had been productive; one could only hope that the evening would be equally as such. He blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side as the sound of someone approaching rather swiftly came to his ears, turning towards the entrance with a delicately raised eyebrow.<br/><br/>Judging by the way Atticus proceeded to collapse into the chair, Lessard could only assume that something untoward had happened and he rose slowly, walking towards the man and lightly clearing his throat, tucking long dark hair behind an ear as he slid his spectacles back upon his nose. "Mr. Cross... You seem rather... Upset this evening?" He offered lightly, his left arm lifting to hold the right elbow. "I would offer a cup of tea but... Sadly it seems to be in short supply of late..."<br/><br/>He nodded to the seat opposite. "May I...?" Lessard had not spoken with the bodyguard much, but the man seemed like good company for the most part.