"It's a bit strong for that, too," she says. The mead is homebrewed, one of the better batches she and Vanadi cooked up in an attempt to recreate a family recipe. Sweet, tart, a little floral on the nose.

Athessa accepts the glass, setting it on the desk so she might pull her usual chair a bit closer. It's almost conspiratorial, eliminating the distance that sits between the division head and his audience, but mostly it's so Athessa can lean her elbows on the desk and see the words written on that report.