[ He shoots Irving a glance, over the busy hands of service and good housekeeping. It's a quick thing, an assessing look, that doesn't in any way affect his patience. He'll get Irving comfortable first. ]

There are weeds.

[ It's almost embarrassing to him how large this flat is, now that he's in the company of someone else who understands life at sea. There's barely any personal touches, all of them reserved for his bedroom and minimal at best. He's kept it neat, tidy, the way he'd been given it, because what else is he to do with all of it? Even though he's been generously gifted well tailored and expensive suits, he's an ill fit for luxury. There's just too much space, even for two people.

Another glance Irving's way, at you and yours, as he pulls out a seat for Irving at the dining room table--his way of telling him to sit without the indignity of giving a superior officer orders. He seriously considers leaving off elaborating on who his is, but it'll have to come out eventually, and there are ways to be delicate, as he opens the door to a proverbial closet he hasn't seen the back of in months.

Tea first, weeds second.]

You're welcome here as long as you need, it's no imposition. As long as you can be respectful of Mr. Day's privacy, I'm sure he'll be understanding. You can have my room, that sofa's big enough for two of me.