"Fair enough," she mutters under her breath as she takes the bottles over to the sink. She returns with one of the muffins, sets it within easy reach, and then settles down on the couch beside the Balladeer. "You should eat that," she says, giving his knee an encouraging pat. "You'll feel better."

From here, she can see the DVD menu screen looping on the television. Ugh. She casts about for the remote, finds it wedged between the cushions, and pries it out so she can turn off the screen. Better. She sets the remote aside - also out of easy reach, lest the Balladeer decide it would be easier to torment himself with a film than a book - then shifts to face him, propping her arm up on the back of the couch and her head up on her hand.

"So, have any of the other assassins gone on guilty drinking sprees, or just you?" she asks dryly. She can guess at the answer.