[First the cup goes to the side, cushioned on a small cloth you use to keep it from chipping. Next, you start checking one drawer after another until you make a pleased, ah under your breath, and pull out two tins. When you pop the lids, the smell of spice and leaves begins to seep forth: one's a smokey Lapsang black, the other's a gunpowder green.]

[To your guest, you politely offer both tins for inspection, one in each palm.]

I really hope so! Armadas aren't typically things I come across very often.

[Armadas are a type of boat, right? Some... thing... like that. Close enough.]

Do you know much about this place?