"These past six months I've come to get used to it," he answered, dryly.
Rather than insisting he retrieve the coffee, Daniel got out of her way, moving down the counter a ways so that he could fold his arms over his chest (in what looked to be a practiced move) and watch her risk her neck retrieving coffee. It was a gesture of respect, really, and he watched the process with an expression that he went to great lengths to try to keep straight. Sometimes a smirk would make it to one edge of his mouth or another, all the more visible since, as always, he had two or three days' worth of beard before he got around to shaving. "Let me know if you need help," he said, innocently, doing his best not to watch her legs as she climbed up on the chair and probably failing spectacularly. There was more coffee in a lower cupboard, but she didn't know that.
(Considering the tone of the last few weeks, Daniel seized any chance at levity.)