"Ain't no bother." She giggled, still permanently pink. "Here you go," she re-poured his cup of coffee and ladled beaten eggs into a hot frying pan. "I just need to warm up the chile and make the toast. I think you're the real butter kind of guy, right?" she asked, putting little wrapped pats of butter into the hessian bag as she tossed cooked sausage, peppers and onions with spinach into his omelette.