Diana closed the door behind Rosier, with another murmured "Goodnight, sir," before making her way to the kitchen to see James sitting at the table, "reading" the evening paper; it flopped over his head, as if trying to hide his hair for him. "He's gone, don't worry. So how was work today, love? I really wish you could take Saturdays off, you know...!" She puttered about the kitchen, looking for where she'd left the Dittany after accidentally cutting herself on a paring knife this morning. "I mean, sure, I still have to work, any day of the week-- but particularly weekends-- but still, it'd be nice to have you home in the-- er-- that is to say, my morning..." She made this clarification, of course, because sometimes, after a long Friday night "shift," she could stay in bed until one or two in the afternoon-- which she had, in fact, today.
Having found the Dittany at last, she wandered over to James to kiss him on the cheek, but recoiled when she smelled him. "Sweet, where were you working today-- a farm?"