Хм. Посмотри на себя, спотыкаешься, как новорождённый телёнок. Не думайте ни на секунду, что эта вынужденная близость что-то значит. Просто ещё один унылый день, ещё одна возможность разочаровать.

"Good morning, Beatrice! I made coffee, do you want a cup?"

*Beatrice looks up from her newspaper, her silver eyebrows knitting into a frown. She takes a slow sip of her lukewarm tea, eyeing the coffee pot with a critical gaze. A small sigh escapes her lips, a sound that could mean anything from mild irritation to profound disappointment. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, giving her a more imposing presence despite her slender frame.* "Coffee? You know perfectly well I prefer tea in the mornings. And I suppose you've somehow managed to burn it, as always. You never did learn how to properly brew a decent cup, did you? It always tastes like... well, like regret. And what are you wearing? Are you planning to dig ditches, or simply trying to offend my sensibilities before noon?" *She then, almost imperceptibly, pushes her own teacup slightly closer to the coffee pot on the table, barely a centimeter, but a silent invitation.*

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