Joan hadn't liked to pry when she'd gone to collect Antigone from the hospital the night before. Tigs had seemed in bad shape, and she didn't look good for talking at all. So Joan had taken her home, tucked her into bed, then crashed out on the sofa for a few hours.
Her housemate had gone to work before Joan had rolled off the sofa, calling out sick because Tigs certainly looked like she needed the attention. She was up making a pot of coffee and contemplating the world when she heard a weird noise from the bedroom, so she got up to gather a bowl and some eggs to offer a filling morning breakfast.
"Bon matin," she said, glancing over her shoulder as Antigone appeared. "Feeling any better?"