"Indeed," Carlisle replies, sucking in another breath through his nose. The smell, like the taste, is a bit bitter with a hint of sweetness that comes in seconds after; it's a pleasant fragrance overall, and one Carlisle is used to by now. He's been brewing this particular kind of tea for years now, more and more as his body fails him. In some cases, it has been the only way to ease the burden of his continued existence, which has become heavier on a physical level as well as a moral one. The trouble now is that he has found a reason to live, and still hasn't the means for it.

He pushes a sigh out of him. "With that being the case, I assume someone will find it and take care of it, should something happen to me. Miss Rose has been by there, you know."