Connor scrubbed a hand over his face as she went to the kitchen. He would have to tell her more, he thought. It had been easier with Marla, who had already known. He'd definitely tell her before they had a jam session; all of them, him and Colby and John and Kayla, Brett's fiance, they were all suffering, if in different ways. He didn't want to confuse her, but he couldn't deny that talking of some things was hard.
He thanked her quietly for the water, taking a sip as he settled back into the couch, turned slightly to face her. "It wasn't too bad. Was up too early, but Dana schlepped me to a doctor's appointment and back again before she took off to school. I was quasi-successful with my self-imposed cooking lesson of the day, in that it was edible if not excellent," he said, tone rueful. "I'll improve... eventually. A decade of hotels and travel bus microwaves and such does not a good cook make." His voice was self deprecating. "Chaffing a bit at this whole 'can't drive myself anywhere' thing, though I suppose it does keep me rather under the radar."