"Right. Bring that back and come down," he said. He put out plates and cutlery on the table. Though he normally had breakfast upstairs in the dining room, it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on Pippa, at least until he had to start work. He felt rather guilty.

She nodded lamely and took the offending pot upstairs, then went to her room to clean herself up and change into fresh clothes. She would still do her job if it was the last thing she could do. Pippa only felt like she was dying with her head just pounding away; she knew she wasn't dying though and it was only a hangover. Once she was dressed in a fresh smock, she braided her hair and gave it some semblance of tidiness. Then she went back downstairs, actually looking like she felt slightly better for having cleaned up.

When she came back, there was toast, butter and jam, as well as coffee on the table. Tristan was already eating and was skimming through the Illustrated Police News with a frown. He looked up. "Ah. You'll forgive me for having started. But I don't want to be late opening the clinic."

"It's alright," she said miserably, sitting down and reluctantly grabbing for her food. She bit off a piece and chewed and chewed. It was good that he chose to make a light repast, for she didn't think she could handle anything more than said toast. She did not look at him, her eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and dark was smudged beneath her eyes from her feeling ill. But she made no further complaints...

When he didn't find what he was looking for, Tristan closed the newspaper and looked at Pippa. She looked absolutely awful. "I'm so sorry. I should have been more considerate last night. I had no idea the wine would affect you so badly."

"I could have said 'no,' sir," she said quietly. "It is just as much my doing. I should have told you that I don't often imbibe. I remember acting like a fool last night and I... I am sorry." she covered her face with her free hand for a moment in her chagrin.

"You didn't. Never worry," Tristan said, feeling worse. "I cared more for having company than I considered the sense or propriety of it. It is at least as much my fault. Take it easy today. I'll eat a simple lunch and I'll pick something up for dinner, so you won't have to cook."

"Are you sure? I don't mind working. I just needed some time to wake up more than anything. I feel better." That was a fib and he would probably know it easily enough. She made a terrible fibber. She would likely feel like shit for the majority of the day just like her author does on one cup of wine, but that is neither here nor there. Pippa gave a light sigh and went back to chewing on toast.

It hardly required a doctor to tell that she was not well. And then, Tristan was still feeling guilty. "I insist. Go back to bed after breakfast, and make sure you drink a lot of water throughout the day.

"As you say," she acquiesced eventually. Her eyes were hooded now as she chewed upon the last of a piece of toast. At least he didn't burn toast like she still tended to do... not that it was charcoal when she burnt it now, but even still, nobody likes the taste of charred bread.