"I'm not sure I can relax," George said as he stood. He picked up the urn and carried it into the kitchen to store it out of sight in a cupboard next to a canister of flour. He allowed himself a momentary smirk about how horribly funny it might be if he got the two confused in the wee hours of the night.
"It's a nice offer," he continued as he returned to the living room and flopped onto the seat on her left side, "but you shouldn't have to clean up after me." He put his feet up on the coffee table and folded his arms, staring at the heaps of broken things. "I'll get it later."