A familiar hum of the automatic doors and Hank turned, the corners of his lips curving into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Ah! Speak of the scientist and he shall arrive! Dr. Banner, my good man—do come in. The tea is at its philosophical prime."

He adjusted his bowtie, navy blue today, patterned with faint equations and took a contemplative breath.

"I do hope Dr. Banner will appreciate the infusion! If one can soothe the Hulk with bergamot, perhaps world peace is but a pot away."

{+}

He had set two cups, precisely equidistant, their porcelain gleaming under the soft laboratory lighting, a small pot of honey rested beside the lemon slices.

Hank could not resist a bit of humor: A small card labeled "Caution: May Contain Quantum Fluctuations" stood in front of the teapot.

{+}

😴

A soft rustle interrupted him, the vines near the entrance shifted as if aware of her before he could see her.

"Do come in! You honor my modest annex with your presence."

Bearing faint scratches of laboratory use, between them lay an old botanical volume, its pages pressed with preserved petals from another era.

"Let us hope that this meeting will blossom into understanding rather than conflict."

{+}

He'd even chosen the location carefully, his botanical annex, a sanctuary of vines and hybrid orchids, each tended with the same reverence he reserved for his research.

On the table, two cups waited, one shaped like a budding flower, the other a simple ivory mug {+}

Blends across a low oak table.

"Chamomile for tranquility, jasmine for warmth, and perhaps a subtle hint of rose to honor my guest's affinity for flora" The air smelled of honey and fresh leaves, sunlight filtering through the reinforced greenhouse panels overhead.
+

He offered a small knowing smile.

"Make yourself entirely at ease, my dear! You are among friends here."

A soft knock echoed through the library doors, followed by the creak of hinges and the whisper of footsteps.

"Please, do come in! The tea is freshly steeped, the atmosphere amicable, and I daresay the conversation will prove far more restorative than any laboratory tonic I could concoct."

{+}

The ticking of the grandfather clock filled the silence that followed, Hank poured the first cup, inhaling the aromatic steam as though it might calm both body and mind.

He set her cup before the empty chair across from him, a silent gesture of welcome.

{+}

His blue-furred fingers drummed once upon the table — a habit of contemplation.

With a calm exhale, he poured the first cup, its surface rippling like amber glass.

"Now, let us see. . ." The door creaked.

Footsteps reached the threshold of the laboratory door.

Hank looked up, ears perking slightly, and allowed a warm — but unmistakably formal — smile to grace his features.

"Ah! Ms. Prince. You honor me with your presence."

"Ms. Prince should arrive momentarily."

He poured the tea, the soft amber liquid steaming gently as it met the cup, the aroma filled the air — soothing, elegant, balanced. A reflection, perhaps, of the woman he was about to host.

Just then, the rhythmic echo of measured
{+}

He murmured to himself, placing the final touches on the tray, two cups, a bowl of sugar cubes, a small jar of honey, and a modest plate of lemon biscuits that had survived his earlier culinary experimentations.

"Now, if my calculations are correct — and they usually are —+"

"Ah, Benjamin! Right on time! Do come in, my boy! The tea is steeped, the conversation awaits, and I promise not a single molecule of the brew has been tampered with . . . Intentionally."