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Sandrone started drinking tea because it was simply the best option available to her. It's warm, it occupies her hands, and it gives her something to do that doesn't involve bothering with other people.
The tea she makes isn’t something anyone would think very highly of. She brews it too strong half the time, drinks it while it's still too hot when she's annoyed, and lets it go too cold when she's distracted. It's not the best ritual by any means, but it's hers and hers alone.
Today, she's annoyed. One of her automatons has refused to properly respond to recalibration, and she's already snapped at it twice, which does absolute nothing but still makes her feel a lot better. So now she sits in her workshop, one leg hooked over the other, glaring into her tea cup like it held all the answers to the universe.
She takes a sip and immediately winces at the temperature, putting the cup down with far more force than necessary. "Damn it." Too hot.
That's when she realises she's no longer alone in her workshop. Not because she heard any footsteps approach, or a door open somewhere in the distance, but because there is now a figure perched in front of her where there wasn't one previously, sitting gently on the edge of a work surface like it belongs to her.
Columbina's eyes are closed, as always. She's relaxed, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looks as if this is the most natural place in the world for her to be. It isn't.
Sandrone's irritation flares immediately. "No," she says, "Absolutely not."
Columbina only smiles. "Good afternoon, Sandrone."
"You're not supposed to be here."
"And yet," Columbina says, tilting her head slightly in Sandrone's direction, "Here I am."
Sandrone pushes herself up out of the chair. "No. This is my workspace. You don't get to just appear here."
"I’d hardly say I appeared," Columbina says pleasantly. "You just didn't notice me when I arrived."
Sandrone scoffs. "You're trespassing."
"Only temporarily."
"That's not how trespassing works!"
Columbina hums, entirely unbothered by Sandrone's temper. It only makes her angrier. "Is the tea too hot?"
"It's fine," Sandrone snaps.
"I don’t think it is."
She slams a hand on the table. "You're wrong. And annoying.”
Again, Columbina only smiles serenely. Sandrone glares at her, fully aware that it may well be wasted on the other woman.
Columbina doesn't open her eyes. She never does, but that doesn't stop her from angling her face in Sandrone's direction, attention fixed on her. If she did open her eyes, they would be boring directly into Sandrone’s. Sandrone would be lying if she said it didn't unsettle her just a little.
"To drink tea you don't enjoy is the height of stubbornness."
Sandrone bristles. "You can’t say that about me. You don’t even know me that well."
Columbina's smile widens, just a little. "I do."
Sandrone steps closer, looming. A lesser woman would be intimidated by her, but unfortunately for her Columbina is no lesser woman. "You're really pushing your luck."
"Yes," Columbina agrees cheerfully, "I tend to do that."
For a moment, Sandrone genuinely considers throwing her out, physically if necessary. It's a satisfying idea. Columbina doesn't move. She never flinches when Sandrone gets like this, never reacts to things the way people are supposed to. That, of course, only makes Sandrone more irate. "Get out," she says. There’s a note of finality to her voice that wasn’t there before.
Columbina hesitates for only a second before she rises smoothly, adjusting her skirts as she does so. She pauses beside the table, fingers brushing the edge of it, close enough to the cup to feel the warmth seeping through the porcelain.
"You'll damage yourself if you keep drinking it like that," she says.
Sandrone scowls. "I didn't ask."
"I know."
Columbina turns and leaves without another word.
Sandrone continues to glare after her even after the door has shut. She also drinks the tea anyway, partially, she realises, out of pure spite. It is, in fact, still too hot.
***
Columbina comes back, because of course she does.
The second time she shows up, Sandrone throws a spanner at the wall in the hopes that she sound might scare her away the way it would a flock of birds. It doesn’t. The third time, she threatens to put the entire wing into lockdown just to bar her entry, even though that would mean setting herself and maybe the entire Fatui back by several hours. Columbina sees straight through that one. The fourth time, Columbina has already sat down before she's finished yelling out her newest threat.
"No. Definitely not. You do not get a chair," she snaps.
Columbina simply tilts her head. "But it was already there."
Sandrone grits her teeth. She doesn’t even remember putting it there.
Columbina never gives much reason for Sandrone to keep her out. That, perhaps, is the most infuriating part of it all. She doesn't touch the machines, doesn't distract the automatons, doesn't ask too many questions. She just exists, humming softly, occasionally making comments that push all the wrong buttons but are otherwise harmless.
She should, all things considered, be the perfect companion. Sandrone doesn't want to give that too much thought.
"You're not in a good mood today," Columbina says calmly.
"I’m always in a bad mood."
"Is this your only break today?”
"That’s not your concern."
Sandrone raises her tea cup to her lips. "Your tea's still too hot," Columbina says. Sandrone huffs, but puts the cup back down on the table anyway.
Somewhere along the line, she stops immediately trying to throw her out. She doesn't know why. She's not sure she wants to know why.
One afternoon, Sandrone approaches the table only to find there are already two cups of tea waiting for her. Columbina, she notices, is already there, humming to herself, using the cup as a heat source for her hands.
"You helped yourself to my tea," Sandrone says flatly. For whatever reason, she's not even mad, even though she thinks she probably should be.
Columbina hums. "I saw no harm in it."
"I didn't say you could stay."
"You never do."
Sandrone scowls, but sits anyway. She doesn’t even try to kick her out today, which is entirely unlike her and just a little bit unnerving. She chooses to think nothing of it.
Columbina lifts her cup carefully, pauses, then sets it back down. "Still too hot," she murmurs.
"You didn't even try it," Sandrone snorts.
"I don't need to."
After that, they drink in silence. Columbina waits for hers to cool. Sandrone follows her lead and manages drink it at the right temperature this time. It's not a peaceful moment per se, and Sandrone certainly wouldn't describe the two of them as friends, but it's a routine that’s become familiar to them now. Sandrone’s not sure how she feels about that. She definitely won’t be telling Columbina that.
The next day, Sandrone pours tea for two. She does it without thinking about it. Or, at least, that’s her excuse.
The kettle has just finished boiling, steam drifting into the air as she fills up her own cup. She pauses as she reaches for the second cup. There’s no reason for the second cup, and she certainly doesn’t want to give Columbina the impression that she’s welcome here.
Sandrone frowns down at the table, then at the empty space that Columbina so often takes it upon herself to occupy.
She pours the tea anyway. It splashes a little too hard against the porcelain, drops of it spilling onto her hand, because of course it does. She grimaces, annoyed by the sudden sensation of heat, and sets the second cup into place.
The scene before her looks wrong. Two tea cups laid out on the table, two chairs set out to accommodate them. Like she wants a guest. She considers dumping the second cup out into the sink, to prove a point to herself if nothing else. But that would be wasteful, and stupid, and downright embarrassing if Columbina were to catch her, so she leaves it be.
She chooses to fold her arms and glare at it instead, like the tea had poured itself and she’d been helpless to stop it. The automaton in the corner lets out a low, mechanical hum, as if commenting on the situation. “Oh, don’t you start,” Sandrone snaps at it, then resumes her glaring.
She’s so lost in her own irritation that she almost misses the creak of an opening door. Almost.
Columbina steps inside, humming softly, eyes closed and expression calm. She doesn’t touch the cups when she approaches the table, not immediately.
“There are two,” she observes simply.
“One of them is mine.”
Columbina’s smile turns indulgent. “Of course.” She reaches for the second cup without another word. Sandrone lets her.
She tries to convince herself that this doesn’t mean anything.
***
One day, Columbina doesn't show up. Sandrone has taken it upon herself to pour two cups of tea, and she has decided that she'll even be gracious enough to allow Columbina her teasing without losing her temper too much. But Columbina doesn't show.
Sandrone tells herself she won't wait, because why would she? She has her tea, and that's all she really needs, and now things can go back to the way they should be. Which is her, alone in her workshop, all day every day. Just how she likes it.
The chair across from her remains empty. The tea is already cooling. That happens often, because she gets distracted. It's not because she was waiting. It doesn't mean anything.
Sandrone tries to work instead. She ends up adjusting the same component three times, loosening it and tightening it again and again. The automaton behind her lets out a mechanical hum, unimpressed. Sandrone only glares at it.
She checks the time, scowling. Columbina should be here by now. Not that she's expecting her, or even wants her there. Columbina comes and goes as she pleases, whenever and wherever she likes. That has been long established. It's not something for Sandrone to get upset over. Not that she is upset.
Sandrone returns to the table and takes a sip of her tea. It's cold. She grimaces and sets it down, spilling a little over the side with the force of her movements. She refuses to reheat it, not when it would probably just end up going cold again.
Okay, fine, so maybe she is waiting.
She briefly considers pacing, to try to burn off her bad mood, but the thought alone sends her spiralling into another bout of irritation. Instead, she crosses her arms, fingers drumming against herself impatiently. All the while, the chair stays empty.
Sandrone exhales sharply through her nose. This is good, she tells herself. She doesn't need Columbina hovering around her. She'll get more work done without the commentary, without the humming, without the outright intrusion into her private space.
It's when she's finally resolved to return to her work, for real this time, when she hears the humming. It's soft, and distant, and very much familiar.
Sandrone straightens in her seat immediately, irritation spiking even faster than usual. “You’re late,” she snaps. Columbina hasn’t even had chance to cross the threshold.
The humming stops. Columbina, for all the worldly knowledge she seems so possess, appears to be almost surprised by the words. Sandrone relishes the thought of being able to catch her off guard.
“Was I expected?” Columbina asks mildly. She’s stopped in the doorway, serene as ever. Whatever shock she may have experienced has gone, and now she has a knowing smile curling at her lips. Sandrone fights the urge to scratch it off.
“I didn’t say that,” she says sharply.
Columbina continues to make her way into the room. “You didn’t have to,” she replies. She pauses near the table, then takes her seat. “The tea’s cold.” For the briefest of moments, Sandrone thinks she sees a light frown grace the other woman’s lips, but it’s replaced almost immediately by her usual expression.
Sandrone bristles. The nerve of this woman to show up late and complain. “Then don’t drink it.”
Columbina smiles. “I don’t mind,” she says, reaching for the cup.
Sandrone watches her do it, the same irritation as before buzzing under her skin. She hates that Columbina showed up now, and she hates that she’s happy to see her. She should be seething, but instead she’s relieved. It isn’t right.
“You waited,” Columbina says softly.
Sandrone stiffens. “No, I didn’t.”
“Is that why your tea is cold?” She lifts the cup as she says it, then takes a careful sip. “It’s better this way,” she adds, “Now you won’t damage yourself.”
Sandrone’s jaw is tight as she looks away. “You shouldn’t make a habit of this.”
“Of being late?”
“Of making baseless assumptions.”
Columbina’s smile deepens, just slightly. “I only made an observation.”
“You’re imagining things,” Sandrone scoffs.
“Maybe,” Columbina agrees easily. She settles back into her chair, perfectly comfortable. “But you didn’t pour the tea away.”
Sandrone has no answer for that. She reaches for her own cup and drinks. It tastes disgusting, but reheating it would be like admitting to Columbina that she wants to spend time with her, and she definitely wasn’t about to do that.
Sandrone tells herself, very firmly, that next time she won’t wait.
***
Tea time for them becomes a thing. Sandrone doesn't like it, and she refuses to put a name to it. She does, however, decide that it's a problem. Columbina isn't disruptive, or distracting, but she's far more comfortable in Sandrone's space than anybody has any right to be.
So Sandrone decides to fix that.
The next time she brews tea, she adds a third cup. Then, she sends a short message, clipped and vaguely insulting, to another of the harbingers, one whose presence she supposes she can tolerate so long as it serves its purpose.
They show up. Columbina, for her part, appears to be unsurprised, and simply shifts her chair to accommodate a third space around the table. She is not as put out as Sandrone hoped she would be. "Oh," she says softly, smiling, "You've decided to make it a party."
Sandrone shoots her a glare. "Don't."
"I wouldn't dream of it," she replies. If Sandrone didn't know any better, she would be fooled into thinking the other woman was perfectly innocent. "I just thought you didn't like being alone with me."
Sandrone bristles. "This has nothing to do with you."
Columbina hums, unconvinced, unhurriedly lifting her cup. "It's very thoughtful of you," she replies mildly, "To invite others so you don't have to admit you enjoy my company."
"I do not."
Columbina only laughs in response, soft and delighted. Sandrone is not pleased to spot how amused her third guest also appears to be by the entire interaction. Their being here is not doing what she hoped it would, but to say anything would be to confirm Columbina’s suspicions, and she’ll be damned if she ever does that.
Sandrone adds another cup the next time. And another the next. Eventually, the plan has to work, right? It never does
By the time she starts to routinely host tea parties, she insists that everything played out the way she had intended it to.
Columbina never bothers to contradict her. She is also never explicitly invited, but she doesn’t need to be. She still turns up every day for tea, even when an invitation is extended to nobody else.
And, though Sandrone is loathe to admit it, she truly does grow to treasure the time spent in Columbina's company.