"Thank you," Patience said sincerely. She hugged him back tightly, warmly, holding on to him longer than was strictly necessary because she was happy to see him. She grinned up at him and took him by the hand, still holding her sandwich and the flowers in the other (sandwich between her thumb and forefinger, bouquet held tightly by her pinky, in a manner similar to the way she held tools and clippings while gardening), and pulled him into the kitchen. "Cookies or muffins?" she asked. "Or would you prefer a sandwich? I still have plenty of makings left over from my lunch."