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"Something is wrong," Lisa says, voice level, calm, the usual covered with an undertone of extra softness.
Jean's eyes snap up to look at her, her mind whirling in an attempt to come up with an excuse, something, anything. She looks back down, sifting through the scattered about papers, as if that will be helpful in the slightest.
Reports upon reports, requests for assistance, for leave; the letters all blur together and even the thought of writing her signature one more time seems exhausting. It shouldn't be, really, the easiest part of the whole ordeal. It somehow feels the most strenuous at this moment.
"What is?" The words slip out of her mouth before Jean can filter them out. She almost laughs in self-pity as soon as she realises. She grips her quill with such intensity, suddenly feeling weight pressing down on the whole of her back, maybe her shoulders too.
Lisa hums in reply, keeping a note for a couple of seconds before leaning against the railing. "I think..." Lisa puts a finger on her chin, eyes moving around in a dramatic fashion. "You should stand up."
The statement doesn't register as a command until a few seconds later, at which point Jean already gave up on even trying. Her chair is comfortable, her legs feel too weak, and the heaviness pushing so hard down on every limb is spreading so far, so quick.
Jean looks away.
"What is it, Perle?" The clicking of her high heels (How does she walk in those all day... no, Jean is not a hypocrite, her heels are ceremonial, thank you very much) increase in volume until Lisa sits down at the edge of the desk, facing Jean.
"Don't you already know?" Her voice is quiet, almost embarrassed. The Dandelion Knight, completely at a loss of strategy for handling her own mind, her own body that is pin-prickly all over. How did she get here? "In fact, I think you know more than I do."
"I know how to guess." A low, gentle laugh comes out of her lips, making Jean melt. "But I need you to talk to me." She wants to, really, really, wants to. Words feel so far away. Jean hastily drops the ink drenched quill on the table, staining a document a bit. She hopes it wasn't an official one.
"I'm tired."
"And?"
"And I always am."
Lisa toys with her gloves, casting her gaze away from Jean, choosing to stare out of the window instead. She crosses her legs, settling her elbows on her knees as she rests her head in her palms. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
"For whom?" Everyone echoes in the back of her head. She feels stupid for asking, but somehow, Lisa's voice doesn't amplify her headache, so she's willing to humor herself.
"You." The humming resumes.
"Just me?" Jean smiles, not joyful, but less melancholy than it was a moment ago. "Mondstadt suffers more than me, I'd say."
"Your job gets done." She fits the words between the notes seamlessly. "But what do you do to get it done?" Lisa quirks her eyebrow, a challenge invitation.
"Most of the time..." Jean trails off, the sensation of being exposed almost overwhelming. She springs up from her seat (Does she sway? She isn't sure) and grabs the curtains with too harsh of a grip, forcing them closed.
Nobody was looking, she knows. She feels better being hidden anyway.
"I don't know," she finishes, not letting go. The fabric is almost support. Her legs are holding her up just fine, but she thinks she'll tip over if she dares to let go and try to walk back immediately. "I don't know how I do it, and that's the problem. If I knew, I could... make it better. If I knew how it all gets done."
"You're looking at efficiency." Lisa jumps up off the table. Jean closes her eyes and takes a breath. What else is she supposed to look at? What would her mother say in this moment? Her father? Words of comfort seem so far away, and yet Jean doesn't even really want them.
Give me logistics, she wants to yell at Lisa, Give me a proper run down and explain every misstep I took, so I can course-correct, so I can fix it. It feels wrong that way too. Maybe every reply she could ever get would only upset her further. She wants one anyway.
Pure facts will clear her mind but allow her body to experience the full impact of... whatever it is that's making it so incapacitated in this moment. Comfort will allow her to take a breath, but will immediately push her head down under the waves, because Jean thinks there's a guillotine severing her connection to any peace of mind she manages to cling onto for even a second.
A mix? No, she just wants silence.
Sound of porcelain hitting wood fills her ears. She turns her head just slightly to look at Lisa carefully setting down her teacup in front of Jean's chair. The smell of mint hits her nostrils and the only thing she can manage is- "You don't like mint."
"What?" She laughs, again, so gentle. Jean could drown in it. "Mm, do tell what makes you say that."
"You don't seem like the type." The ridiculousness of the statement dawns on her only after it's already out of her mouth. "Cecillia infused tea with honey fits you more."
"What fits you?" Lisa asks instead of giving a direct reply. Jean feels her arms snake around her waist as Lisa carefully tugs her towards her seat. She's thankful, because she can't feel where her feet even are.
"Dandelions," Jean replies without even thinking. "Dandelions surround the planes of Mondstadt. They are in everything here. How could I not be drawn to them?"
Lisa roles her eyes, helping Jean sit down before pushing the cup closer to her. "Try mint today." Her hand rests on Jean's shoulder, thumb massaging the tense muscles there. "It's much more common. Did you know you can even find it high in the mountains? Resilient."
Jean let's the scent of it encompass her first, the warmth spreading through her numb-like fingers. She takes a sip, and it tastes unfamiliar. Has she ever drank mint tea before...?
Lisa leans down, wrapping both arms around Jean. "The thing that is wrong is, people put you on a pedestal, and you give every fiber of your being to stay on it. You are so far up now that they don't even see you. You need to stop unholding their views of you."
"You aren't drawn to Dandelions. You are pushed to them." Lisa nudges the teacup and Jean catches a glimpse of her reflection in the dark liquid.
"Mint. Why don't you look at her?"