He chuckled softly. "Very well, let's see what I can conjure up."

And he meant the word quite literally. There was a slight glow overhead, and Kirian smiled to himself. He was never fond of ostentation, of the fire shows and phoenixes that other Magisters used to impress (in fact, the thought Phoenixes to be filthy creatures). Among the Magisters, Kirian was an oddly practical man. Unlike many, he remembered that a spellblade was still a blade.

But what was magic without a little showmanship?

The glow coalesced into white cups, gold filigree on the outsides, and the gold handles curling on the sides of the cups. Kirian didn't look up, he was studying Rynlan's face for any sign of amusement, or disapproval. He wasn't certain which he would appreciate more.

The cups spun, drifting down and resting on the desk on top of saucers that had landed only moments before. Empty cups, and then, full on dark tea.

Kirian settled back, blowing on the tea and gingerly taking a sip.=, smiling to himself.

"I always conjure it slightly too hot...I haven't been able to exactly get that right. But, strong black tea, as requested."

His was very sweet, as he liked it, but he'd tried to temper that a bit in the other cup.