He gets some black coffee and that's all.

Once the order's been placed:

"Okay, so I think I have trouble coming up with a balanced sort of power within the constraints of a system I don't really understand. And the knowledge that most powers aren't very powerful sort of... it seems like it'd ruin the fun to go, 'Ah, yes, I want telekinesis that lets me move objects that weigh less than a pound,' you know? If we're having silly speculation about what sorts of magic powers I'd want, it seems a shame to just. Go with something modest."

"Hmmm... Okay, suppose it goes with personality. Your brother would probably in fact get magic like what you described, someone with a fear of abandonment might get the power to manipulate how people feel about her and each other..."

"Ability to organize everything within a certain radius of me," she says, immediately. "Just snap my fingers and bam, order from chaos."

He laughs. "Dislike messes, do you?"

"Mm, not precisely. I don't usually mind if they're not my messes? But I can't... think in messes. A lot of how I think through something involves making something organized. I figure out the structure of a system and all of its parts, and what everything does and how everything works together, and then I arrange it in a way that makes sense, and then whoops I've organized am entire supply closet, how did that happen."

"That seems handy as a hobby," he says. "I manage my messes by not having enough possessions to be able to make messes."

Giggle. "Not even dishes, slowly piling up? Or laundry? My organization powers do not actually extend to protecting me from the horrors of laundry, I had to write out a schedule for myself to have any hope of staying on top of it."

"Not dishes, but laundry I have to admit is a bit more of a problem."

"The horrors of laundry haunt us all," she agrees, gravely.

He laughs. "What other horrors haunt the daily life of Yvette Lowell? What other wonders does her life contain?"

"I currently work as a nurse at the Royal Lancaster Infirmary. No comment on which one that falls under."

He grins and leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. Sort of. It's kind of grueling, and there's a lot of, of emotional labor? Lots of people that expect me to care about them, because that's basically my job. I'm not sure it's something I want to do forever. But I like to keep busy, and it keeps me very busy, and it's very... I see the results of my work and my effect on the world first hand. And it's nice, to help people."

He nods, clearly enamored with the explanation.

And then their food arrives.

Well, her food arrives. James only ordered a coffee. Yvette nibbles at her sandwich.

"What about you? Do you find your chosen profession very fulfilling?"

"Hmmm..." He sips from his coffee and scratches his cheek. "I like the technical aspect, the necessary precision and skill. I like the results—people underestimate how important teeth are, how they affect the general shape of the face as well as things like even sleep quality. There isn't much research on it yet and new techniques are being invented all the time, but it's interesting anyway."

"Huh. You know, for some reason I had trouble picturing you as a dentist."

"I have been told that before."

Yvette snorts, and has a bite of sandwich instead of commenting.

"So where were the letters when you found them?" wonders Yvette, looking thoughtful.

"I didn't find them, I talked to a friend who talked to a friend who works in the German Post Office and he talked to a friend who managed to find them somewhere."

"And the... friend of a friend of a friend sent them to you, instead of in a bundle to England to sort out?" she asks, tilting her head.

"No, he gave it to his friend who et cetera until reaching me, but I'm not sure why. I expect the first two links of this chain were because Germany is currently on fire."

She doesn't... quite accept this, and it's clearly visible on her face, but she nods.

"Okay. Thank you."

Blair will presumably someday tell her about it. And, uh, turn her, otherwise she'll get killed.

"Something wrong?" he asks, sounding clueless.