Greta's a bit too focused on getting her bread into the toaster to notice the amount of awkward effort Iman has to put into picking herself up. Instead, when she finally does turn to watch her friend make her way over to the kitchen, she's impressed by how deftly she's carrying both glasses in one hand. Since she so clearly has things under control, Greta doesn't object when she insists she can fetch her own phone. Besides, they're having a good time, and she doesn't want to sour the mood by babying her friend when it's not necessary.

And she's rewarded with an enthusiastic - if perhaps a little undeserved - hug. Greta returns the gesture with a giggle. "It's for you, but I hardly got it," she says, because that makes it sound as if she's put a certain amount of effort into it, as if she'd swiftly made a whole pie while Iman was distracted with her phone. "It was already in the, er," she falters, then frowns over Iman's shoulder at the fridge. Loosening her hold with one arm so she can flap her hand at it, she continues, "the thing whose name I can't remember. Cold box thing. Fridge! That's the one!"

Well, that was silly. She has another giggle at her own expense. "Anyway," she says once she's recovered, "it should still taste just fine, even though I didn't make it today. And it's all for you." She turns to kiss Iman's hair with an extravagant 'mwah!' then releases her as the toaster pops.

"Ooh! And that's for me," she explains with a conspiratorial air as she toddles over to finish preparing the bread. "Though you can try some, too," she adds. "It's the coconut flour."