Faith, when she'd finally rolled out of bed and showered, only vaguely remembered the fact that Oliver was supposed to stop by. By the time he did show up, she stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing a tanktop and jeans as she cut the egg sandwich she'd just burnt in half. She was a horrible cook and the only one who could really eat her own cooking, but she didn't really care.
When she heard his voice, she glanced over her shoulder. "In the kitchen. I'm just fixing breakfast. You hungry?" She shook her hair out of her face absently while she picked up one half of the sandwich and took a bite, finally turning to wait for him to walk in.