Ella had finished making the tea she'd abandoned the night previous, something with rose petals and mint that scented the entire kitchen, intentionally made to help with his injuries. She handed him a mug when he walked in the kitchen, and she took a sip of her own mug a moment later.
The shirt she was still wearing (his) gaped at the shoulders, clearly showing the two bandages which were red-tinged with blood. "I haven't checked yet," she admitted, motioning to the tea as her reason.
She was leaning against the counter, and she looked at him for a moment, a smile touching the corners of her lips. He seemed more sure than months ago, and she liked that very much; it was a good look on him, and the appreciation of it showed in her eyes.