"Good," Emma said as she began to walk to the living room. "I would hate to have to wear a surgical mask to talk to you." Hidden away in a bathroom was a small box of surgical masks and gloves that Emma had likely stolen from Jean years ago. "And you can't expect any different when working with the infirm day in and day out. I don't quite know how you do it." She could, actually, because she knew Jean to care for anyone in need. Emma both admired and often was frustrated by that very impulse.
Emma was first to take a seat on the couch but not before fixing herself a drink. She offered Jean one with a gesture and waited, not wanting to breach the awkward subject of the dreams just yet. It was Jean's problem and so Emma thought it indelicate to take that first step.