[ There's a part of Aether that can almost admire how resourceful — or, by another metric, deranged — Wriothesley is when it comes to making tea even in the most arduous of circumstances. Three teabags seems like... a bit much... but the traveler decides to leave the Duke to his eccentricities.

Especially when, er, he's being called out on some of his own. As if he didn't realize that he'd be out of a blanket (he didn't), Aether blinks and hefts the small blanket in his hand. Paimon may be about... slightly less than toddler-sized... but the blanket is only slightly bigger than a hand towel, really. It's just, he sort of — he hadn't been thinking.

Aether can't help but make an embarrassed little frown as he realizes he won't be able to do much with it, then throws it back into his constellation space. Touché. ]

it's fine. I'll just freeze.

[ Wriothesley's dry humor seems to be rubbing off on him. Aether rubs his hands together — they're a little numb after he dusted off all that snow, even with his gloves to protect him from direct contact — and goes to stand near the teapot's makeshift boiler. ]

...I'm kidding. Not to show off — [ a slight stress on the words suggests he's jabbing back at Wriothesley's play-bite ] — but I've climbed this whole mountain before, so I'll be okay.

[ He's got his tummy out and he's shivering. It's hard to pinpoint, because he's shoved his hands in his pockets now, but his shoulders are shaking. ]