"Oh, sure," she says, setting up the coffeemaker. "Well, I won't tell." She turns to look at him, watching the very visible struggle as he recovers himself piece by piece. "Bathroom's through there," she says with a nod toward the appropriate door. "Coffee'll just be a minute. I'm going with you. I want to show Greta what you did."

She turns away, lets him fend for himself, getting a thermos out of the cabinet for Rush's journey home. It's so easy, just falling back into step, using both hands again - but it feels new, too. She smiles to herself, flexing her fingers slowly. She can't open them up, can't activate the little internal mechanisms, but they're all in place, fitted delicately back in, dormant for now. They'll figure it out. As they promised each other.