“Okay.” Lee makes the call — that she can do that is also good; calling people on the telephone is daunting for her even on her good days — then wanders back into the living room to curl up on the sofa with him. She sits sideways as per usual and pulls him so that he's got his back to her chest, Lee's legs on either side of him with her arms around his waist, her nose in his hair. She has her wine on the coffee table. They're still talking on the television, the chances of anything else taking up any air time is slim, and they've still got six hours before anything major happens yet. A cigarette would make this better but she doesn't smoke inside.