Alfred left Maria to wait at the kitchen breakfast bar. It took some minutes, because Dick wasn't 'upstairs' at the time. The kitchen was quiet, the manor having that heavy, ancient solid feeling where its corners seemed to seep quietude. All broken the moment Dick came bounding in, the energy he seemed to emit more felt than heard as the stillness of the kitchen was evaporated by his grinning at Maria, oily towel in his hands, face smudged, knuckles black, t-shirt that would need a miracle to save and jeans that seemed especially for the work he'd been doing. The kitchen now had the distinct smell of motor grease and some sharper fluid as he rounded the counter quickly and head for the sink.
"Hey! Alfred, this lady is in need of some cake, and probably some good whiskey. And coffee!" His voice turned plaintive. "Make me coffee? Pleeeeeease?"
"Only if you use the proper sink, Master Dick."
Dick looked morosely at the big stainless still one, than moved to the proper hand washing station. "Sink shmink," he said, but seemed properly chastised as he flopped the towel over his shoulder and started scrubbing his hands.
"Is there a preference on cake, Ms Hill, or shall I make the usual?" Impeccable control and deference, unlike the active man noisily scrubbing his face (and still somehow missing a smudge of grease on the bridge of his nose).
Dick called over to Maria. "So I'm getting clean. Are you clean?" He pointed a soapy finger toward his ear, indicating he meant that she was bug free, not the state of any dirt on her person.