Maria looked up from her phone startled and then like a deer in headlights. Or a goblin in a sudden lumos. She gulped, hating how she couldn't seem to summon her usual bravado, and her breathing sped up just a bit. Her condition wasn't something she really talked about to other people. She hadn't told Albie she'd been sick. She hadn't told him anything at all, for nearly two months now.
Eyes wide, she squeaked out a, "Thank you," and then looked down and realized Hannah hadn't put them in as take-out, but she didn't want to say as much because she didn't want to say anything at all to Albie, who she knew she hadn't treated right. But to tell him she was sick would have necessitated her talking about her condition and while he knew what she was, there's a difference between knowing and understanding the details. She swallowed again, screwing up her courage, and closed her eyes, "Um, I was hoping to get them as take-out," she said, dread in her voice, just because she really didn't want to be a problem for him.