Pippa opened the door, her eyes sort of tired looking, resigned even. She was in the last clean smock that still fit, if you could call the top buttons secure at all and the bottom buttons close to out of the eyes. She couldn't afford a new smock so she crossed her arms over the worst.

She stepped out into the hall and leaned against the door. "I am awake..." They way she said it made it clear she was present in the moment. In her eyes was profound emotion but without tears. She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to feel anything other than mostly numb. She swallowed audibly and her lips slightly tightened as if to keep them from trembling.

"I didn't want it to be true," she said, and the tone was indicative strongly of the death of her family. It was a frail sounding whisper that spoke louder than a scream. Then she simply started making her way toward the kitchen, pausing for him to simply let him join her with a slight nod. Her breathing was deep inhales and slow exhales. She didn't have words at the moment and even almost seemed to stare ahead of her. She moved to start putting a fresh kettle on, her movements done in a way that was practiced. It was with ease that she tidied up whether he spoke or not. She was busying herself because it was how she coped...

Each thing she had learned in a short time was with her doing a specific routine.. add a few sticks to the glowing embers to get the fire going again, adding a few of the split logs... Flames danced soon once more as she got the water, put it on... And so on without missing a beat... She just... Made herself busy in front of him, assuming he did take the silent invitation for tea. Pippa could almost feel her heartbeat in her ears, the inhales becoming deeper. The one thing she could not seem to do just yet was look at him... Looking at him would be the bringer of tears and she did not want to cry anymore.