Ten minutes is plenty of time for her to get vertical, freshen up, drag a brush through her hair and make the bed. It's more than enough time to talk herself into and out of taking a run at him, three or four times. Which is why, even with the bed made, she's still laying down.

(She can't get the idea out of her head, of just laying down with him, eye to eye, just looking at one another. It's driving her a bit spare. Because she's never been one to just look.)

She murmurs something as he settles in, and forces herself up. The electric kettle is just about whistling, and she makes them both a cup of tea. Another tea cup is commandeered for the cereal, and she sits across from him, reaching for the milk.

"Spoons in the bag?"