She'd made sure that they had a few types of ice cream. For Wash's recovery, or so she would tell anyone who asked. After all, wasn't recovering from a major accident something that required soft foods? Or was that just recovering from getting your tonsils out and heartbreaks?
She peeked in the sink to see if said spoon was there. The bowl was there, but the spoon was missing. She craned her neck to look back through the door to the living room.
"There is no spoon. But I can just grab some clean ones from the drawer," she said, waving off the offer to reuse the spoon. It was a guy thing to not care too much about the relative dirtiness or cleanliness of dishes, she reflected.
She returned to the living room with two bowls of ice cream and held Wash's out. She knew that he was doing a lot better than she would have expected, but she still thought that he should take it easy. She settled herself into the chair with her bowl and looked over at Wash.
"So how are you feeling, anyway?"
The question was vague and could have been as much about his emotional as his physical health.