Greta helps clear things away, at least to an extent. The forks and used napkins get dumped back into the bag, which really ought to get thrown out completely, but that would involve getting up. And for the moment, at least, that's more than Greta wants to do; she's pleasantly full, and they have such a cozy arrangement on the couch that she doesn't want to break things up until they must. So she sets the bag as far enough away that she won't be kicking it by accident, and deems that good enough to be getting on with. They can deal with it properly later.

Leaning back against the couch, Greta stifles a yawn and watches Iman navigate the computer. She smiles when Netflix pops up; that means more Cultural Education, as Iman likes to call it. She hasn't shown Greta much, and not in quite some time - not since the Rift had its way with her arm, really. It's nice to see Iman in the mood for it again.

"What is it this time?" she asks, idly rearranging the blanket.