Clarisse returns balancing a tray with food and two mugs of steaming coffee. It's basically impossible to look cool balancing a tray of anything, but she's doing her best. She mostly picked things that wouldn't be gross if they got cold, but there's still a mix of things they both like—bacon and toasted bread with jam, some apple slices and honey.

She's not surprised to see that the bed's been made, or that Abby's dressed with her hair braided. It's exactly like any other morning, except for all the ways it isn't.

She sets the tray down on the table nearest Abby's bed, and then hesitates, not sure whether to sit down there or on her own bed. Even as she does it, she's aware that she's making it a bigger deal than it should be. She's flopped down on Abby's bed like she owned it dozens of times before this and never given it a second thought, but suddenly she's hyper aware of everything she's doing and how it might come across.

Well, Abby's bed is closer. Clarisse picks up her mug of coffee and sits on the end, holding it in both hands even though it's still a little too hot to drink.

"Hey," she says, feeling like an idiot. "I hope this is okay." Like Abby is going to get pissed at her for bringing the wrong food, or something, when she's seen her eat all this stuff on a regular basis. Stupid.