[Liem is a little bemused to see, when he turns around with the cup and saucer in his hands, that Set is still in possession of the cushion he'd liberated from one of the sitting room chairs. The man displays just the sort of unabashed familiarity with Liem's home that he'd seemed to take with him on their first meeting, when Set had probed so brashly into his background, and into his space. If he recognizes Liem's desire for privacy, for distance from those around him, he hasn't thus far deigned to indulge it. Perhaps it is the divinity in him; the gods have their hands in everything, after all.

He recalls also that Set had been drinking on that first occasion, in Highstorm's public baths, so his admission comes as a surprise to Liem. Though his steady expression doesn't falter, he regards his guest for an uncertain moment before he speaks.]

That is not something I expected to have in common with you. Set, Lord of the Dark Desert.

[Did the gods not sup on the offerings made to them by their faithful? Perhaps a god of violence would not care for such pedestrian fare, but it is a shock to hear that something so mundane could turn his stomach.

Though more shocking is such a god's concern for manners as a houseguest, however limited it might be.]

Perhaps I am a poor host, then, since I have nothing else to offer guests. You are the only one yet to have found your way to my door.