Daisy is up first, which is predictable, really. And with an
observer's careful consideration of the scents drifting enticingly
from the kitchen, it's fairly likely - though possibly surprising -
that there may be homemade breakfast to be had this morning. She
didn't say much last night, but actions speak louder than words,
and this one might be her either asking forgiveness for the upset
she'd caused by her upset, or a directive to forget as best as
possible. And damn, is that - there's definitely bacon in there
somewhere. And onions, gotta be frying onions. Just by smell, eggs
and potatoes and toast, too.

Wow, a fry-up, and I wasn't even drunk last night. Matt shuffles
out of the bedroom, barefoot and sleepy, and leans on the
doorframe. "Wow. Is that bacon? There are pigs on Mars?"

"Just cops," is the cheerful answer. The blonde roboticist is
impeccably slovenly, as usual, her hair gathered back haphazardly
by a pair of barrettes, barefoot, wearing a pair of torn jeans and
a silk kimono. She glances back and grins. "Brought some things
with me freeze-dried. Considered selling them, didn't. Are you
glad?"

"Are you kidding me? My stomach wants to hug you. Luckily, I have
dibs." Matt strolls into the kitchen and carefully, mindful of
popping bacon fat, slides his arms around her from behind. His chin
settles to her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

Daisy melts comfortably against Matt, closing her eyes for a second
to just feel the closeness with no distractions, then returns her
attention to the (very deserving of it) frying food. Poke, poke,
slide, turn. Season. Flip. "I'm not sure how you expect me to have
slept," she laughs, "but yes, I did. You make a good pillow. Can
you feel your arm at all?"

"Let's put it this way. If we'd done this two days ago I would now
be performing a tracheotomy one-handed. Which I imagine is more
difficult than it sounds." Matt leans just a bit, closing his eyes
comfortably. We're okay. That's good. "You're a miracle-worker."

"I'm just a good cook. You're the one that saves lives," says Daisy
softly, affectionately. She scoops the golden scrambled eggs into a
bowl, lets the bacon sit on the back burner, and focuses on the
potatoes and onions - which she adds a little bit of bacon grease
to. "I hate to ask, 'cos it means you letting go, but would you be
a dear and butter the toast while it's still hot?"

"Either that's absolutely filthy, or you want me to butter the
toast while it's still hot. And since I'm hungry, I'll take the
second course and save the first for later." Matt unwinds himself
from Daisy and finds his way around the kitchen with the minimum of
bafflement and fumbling. "I am really sorry about your robot. Will
you be able to rebuild it?"

Daisy pauses, then laughs! Creep. "Yes, I want you to butter the
toast while it's still hot. And put some eggs and potatoes on your
plate. And depending on how you like your bacon, you can have it
now or in about a minute." She's silent for a second after the
robot question, staring at the bacon, and then she up and scoops
the potato-and-onion mix into another bowl. "Yeah."

"I'll take it in a minute. I like it so well done it's got a chance
at turning into diamonds someday." Matt butters toast with some
concentration. "Just because I'm not fond of them doesn't mean I
don't care."

"Then you'd better take it in two minutes. In a minute it'll be the
way I like it, which is decently shy of charcoal." Matt's buttering
toast, so Daisy makes up both plates. Lots and lots of food. Lots
of -good- food. Habitual for a one-meal-a-day kind of person, or
someone with an insane metabolism. She lowers the temperature on
the bacon's burner and steals a couple of pieces of
already-buttered toast from Matt. "Well," she says, then smiles a
little. "I know you care about -me-."

"And I care about what *you* care about. Or I'm trying to." Matt is
hungry enough that he starts in on his toast before the bacon is
done. "Mm. My compliments to the grill."

"You don't...you don't have to try and force yourself to like them,
or even to see them the way I see them," says the girl haltingly,
setting her plate down untouched, starting to poke at the bacon
again. "All I'd really like is that you accept the good they're
capable of, and possibly see them in terms of that. You don't have
to see them as art, if you can't. You don't have to see them as
having personalities worth an attempt at preservation." She sees
them as people, is what that sounds like. "But just...as very, very
useful. Capable of helping save lives, or make life better." Then
she shakes her head, and turns off the bacon, lifting the pan to
scoop out the last on to Matt's plate. "But - really, love, I'd
rather not talk about it yet."

Which is just fine with him. Let's not talk about anything
complicated ever, yay. Matt leans forward as she scoops the bacon
onto his plate in order to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Whatever
you want, Daze."

There's a sudden radiant grin on Daisy's face. "Well, -you-,
naturally." But she has this thing about needing to sit down to
eat, so takes a chair. Asks innocently as she arranges her food
fussily, "You're an impossible thing. Last night was before
breakfast." Then she cracks up and shakes her head, "I can't finish
that. Too hungry." Chomp. Pull up a chair, stay a while.