For rude_not_ginger
The main parlor of Iki, at this time of morning, was almost deserted. The previous evening's clients were long departed, and it would be several hours before trade picked up again. As such, the house was quiet - the servants went about their various tasks; the entertainers rested or read quietly. And, in the front room, a woman knelt on a reed mat, a tea service set up on a low table in front of her, an earthenware pot held steadily in her hands.
"Next, with the spout at a forty-five degree angle, you slowly pour. Careful not to splash any," Irene added, her eyes flicking over to watch the actions of the man beside her as he tended to his own duplicate set-up. "Replace the pot - gently - that's right."