Melinda had not done anything to the bruises, and she was definitely feeling them. Most of them weren't terribly visible, in the pajamas she was wearing, although she made no effort to hide the ones that were, either, a combination of her bizarre battle-pride and making Marek feel bad for beating her up. Not that he would, but whatever. She even wore short sleeves so the scar on her arm, from that incident with Duke before the battle, was visible, and for the first time in a good long while, she was not wearing a scarf.
She was standing at the sink, pouring some bacon grease down the drain, when Marek entered. She glanced up when he came in, then carried the pan back to the stove as if nothing was strange. "I wanted to give the kitchen a break from your abuse," she commented, cracking an egg into the pan, then another. "As fascinating, I'm sure, as watermelon pancakes with hot sauce and mustard would be, you're getting scrambled eggs," she informed him, breaking the rest and going to toss the eggshells out, then stirring the eggs up in the pan with the spatula.