[Though the privacy of his garden is adequate, the shelter provided by the walls of the cottage, especially from the suns, is something Carlisle relishes; he feels safer, secure in there. He waves toward the chairs, a gesture for Atem to take a seat as he stands at his worktable. Draped along the bed on the far wall is that pelt he was wearing, head of the beast and all still attached, its monstrous visage far less intimidating when it's nothing more than an enchanted cloak.

He doesn't admit it was him in the store just yet, but he knows the pelt is lying there in plain sight. He casts a slightly guilty glance toward Atem, as though wondering if the lad has noticed it -- perhaps he didn't bring Atem inside just because he changed his mind on the tea.]

You needn't actually drink this tea for it to work. Inhaling the steam would be enough for a dreamless sleep for at least a few hours. You would get more by imbibing, though.