If Eclair imagined that this was the first time Injimo had been kicked into a tea party, she would be wrong.[1]

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Technically, she had not been kicked into a tea party in the wild, but it had been one of many scenarios she had trained for in case Princess Heron had needed training on how to do it.
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Her long hair, unbound from topknot, falls down across her eyes. She slumps halfway across the table, elbows on, holding the teacup drunkenly in one hand. She whirls it around her finger, then sloshes the whole thing over her shoulder. She slams out her counter onto the table - teacup, teacup with saucer, margarita glass, majong tiles. She flicks her hair back and looks up with dead, hollow eyes as she lifts the teapot and sloshes boiling water across all three cups in one swift slash, spraying water all across the table. Nonmatching ceramic bowl, ivory dice, three cigarettes, potato chips arranged into a delicate lotus pattern. Her sleeves whirl and slash as she arranges the tea set, then flick as loose leaf tea pours out onto the table. 

She snaps her hand, her magical tablet flicked into her hand. She breaks eye contact, profoundly indifferent, cups rattling where she brushed them, pressing buttons. A bright yellow plastic toy excavator, a Yukisworld relic that had found a place in the Stacks, rolls across the table, controlled remotely. Its bucket lowers and it picks up a huge scoop of the tea leaves scattered across the table. It rolls forwards, mechanically beeping, and dumps the tea wildly across the two teacups. Into the margarita glass Injimo pours clear vodka, splashing two drops precisely into both tea cups as she tosses the flask over her shoulder to land with the original tea cup.

She shakes the lid around the edge of the two teacups, staring directly again, eyes red, then sets it on top of the toy excavator. She looks at what are now her guests and offers her hand expressively with a lidded stare.

[i]A Yakuza-style tea ceremony.[/i] The artistry it required to be this rude - the way the scattered tea-leaves still formed a lotus pattern - underestimate it at your peril.

"I [i]wouldn't[/i] know what you're talking about," said Injimo. Discipline was back. This was a trained Handmaiden, after all - even here past the edge of despair, tea ceremony drunken and mad and an offense to every law of etiquette, was a dangerous thing. Reminded of her duty, she had drawn a demon blade of lies and chipped chinaware, and threw up this last wall of entropy in the face of logic. "Unless -" gasp! "- this is a [i]gaaaame[/i]! Officerrr, you like the idea of creating panic by spreading rumours about Heron's absence, don't you?"