"What on earth was this bet?" Padma knew it had to be good if Michael's losing had meant he'd head to wear that jumper. The coffee was starting to wake her up a bit, but she still felt slow, and sore. She was horribly incoherent in the mornings, and so she usually took her time speaking, not wanting to look daft.
Mikey?. They were being... well, maybe they'd just gotten closer again. She had been away a long time, certainly, but Padma hadn't heard that nickname in a while. Padma felt as if she were missing something.
"No thank you, I'm good," Padma said in reference to her coffee. "And anticipating the culinary masterpiece my personal chefs are concocting." As was promptly evidenced by the growling of her stomach.