Mabel pressed her lips together in conceding; it was true someone had to, and Mrs. Smith would have done her best, but it would have taken at least double the recovery time if someone hadn’t been next to her bedside constantly. Tilda had warned that immediate attention must be given else she’d be left with permanent (but liveable) side-effects. This, of course she hadn’t told Dory.

“I at least wanted to give you something in gratitude,” She offered with a small smile. Her arms withdrew inside her cloak, prepared to step back out into the cold when he invited her in further. Another glance around the flat had her hesitating before she heard herself say, “I suppose one cuppa wouldn’t hurt.” and she reached up to unfasten the clasps at her throat. Underneath, despite having come from the hospital, she wore her civilians clothes, a long cotton blouse and wool skirt combination that provided comfort and warmth in equal measure. Even so, the warmth of the small flat had started to seep into her skin which tickled after being chilled.

Her eyes moved to the couch before she walked over to the small table off of the kitchen.

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