Aidan watched Tracey's retreating form with the air of a man who wasn't sure how long he was going to be privy to the luxury of being close to her and was therefore intent on memorising every tiny detail which would be dragged forth from the recesses of his memory at a later time and savoured like a fine wine (or, in Aidan's case as he was quite ignorant of wine, a very good Guinness).
Thankfully he managed to retain a little of his wits and set about to compile a quick breakfast, working with what little skills he had in the kitchen and thanking whatever deity would care to listen that the hotel had provided them with several sets of free toothbrushes and towels, so that the Irishman had already been able to brush his teeth and take a shower (he shuddered to think what Tracey would have to say to him otherwise). Thus lost in thought Aidan almost didn't notice Tracey's return until she finally spoke.
He looked up from the food and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen her looking any more gorgeous than now, Aidan decided and Merlin knew, he'd done his fair share of drooling over her back in school. "'ere." He heard himself say and clumsily poured her a cup of coffee. "How do yer drink yer coffee? Milk? Sugar? Or -ouch!"
Aidan winced as the hot coffee spilled over the edge of the delicate cup and burned his fingers. He had been too busy staring at Tracey to bother looking at the cup. Aidan swore quietly in Gaelic and reached for a towel. "Or perhaps I could offer yer a new cup." He said sheepishly.