<strong>"My dear, I somewhat doubt they grow the tea here. Depending on the blend you want almost all will come from China, India or Kenya. All places, I do note, that had civilisation imported to them by us. The difference I think is that over here people do not appreciate the finer arts of preparing to decent cup of tea. A trait I fear that has crossed the Atlantic these last few years."</strong><br/><br/>The tea was brewed and made expertly. Back at the country estate in glorious Buckinghamshire of course there would be someone to do this for him but in the hell holes that Christopher had been forced to work there was rarely someone who understood the delicate nature of preparing tea and Christopher was not above what he would almost consider manual labour when required. A perfect cup to tea was prepared, a slight clink of china as it was placed on a saucer and then handed to Viola, his own following. He took a sip, a slight sigh of pleasure as the sweet nectar of life passed his lips before settling down on his own chair facing her.<br/><br/><strong>"Very good... I will of course look through the files myself later. I've had the dubious pleasure of meeting one of the patients already and observing another but, do tell me, as you know their history at least as well as I do, what do you think of each of them? What is your educated opinion on who would best suit me? Likewise what do you know of the new psychologist here... he was quite abrupt with me earlier... and which patients would he both benefit most and be most interested in?"</strong>