Could the kitchen really run smoother with him in it? Riddle's not sure. His magic isn't shaky, he could help with his spells, but he's sure that wouldn't be what Trey would allow, in his space. The kitchen... no, it's more his battlefield than Riddle's, a battlefield that he isn't sure he can conquer.

Anyways.

He notices the stare, the bewilderment clear in his eyes. Riddle himself blinks, unsure what was so shocking about the idea. Was it... how strained they already were? The concern that, anything a little closer would cut into old wounds, would push them further apart all over again, much like his own words had done not all that long ago. It's painfully obvious Riddle didn't get the implication of his words now--

and he surely wouldn't with Trey not pointing it out. Instead, he just nods slightly, leaning back from Trey to glance towards the few books he had out. Mm, he should clean up....

"Let's finish our tea in your room, then." Riddle sets his teacup down carefully, his hands coming to the books and organizing them into a small pile. Then, he brings that pile to his chest as he moves to stand up. His teacup is grabbed, too, leaving not a single hand open for him to offer to Trey to help him stand.