Lee wants to ask what do you need? or maybe what do you want? or even how do you feel? but feels they're all not the right question. Or maybe they put too much pressure on him to come up with the right words. Instead she straightens further, throwing the covers off and sliding off the side of the bed. She pauses to put on some pants before tugging his sleeve, trying to get him to follow her into the living room, where she sits him down on the couch.
She doesn't sit down right away, instead meandering over to the kitchen, her bare feet on the tiles the only sound in an otherwise silent room. She's still sleepy and vague, reaching for things, realising it's not the thing she wants, stumbling around. When she returns she's made tea — not coffee — in a pair of the world's ugliest mugs she salvaged from the Chelsea.