"Mm. It sounds as if you've been done few favors." Deirdre knows that feeling; it's an old, bitter unpleasantness. The tea service is finally set up, just in time for the kettle, and thus pouring. She beckons Valdis to join her at the table. "My sort of person is known as a tiefling; descended from mortals and demons, infestations in the bloodline. Though..." She pauses serving to flicker a bitter smile. "I have the rare honor of being first generation."