Lorcan took the stairs up two at a time, gazelle-like. If gazelles could do stairs. He ought to be devoid of energy after work, really - hospital work was ever-taxing - but sometimes Lorcan felt a burst of liveliness afterwards, a sort of overtired awakeness. He felt as though he could probably do this flight of stairs up and down fifty times if he wanted. Which was not something he was going to complain about, if tonight was one of the evenings he could actually spend with Maggie.

Dinner wouldn't hurt first, of course: Lorcan could smell it - the house and the bakery were always full of fresh-food-smells; he was becoming quite an expert at distinguishing them - so he sent his work things flying down the hallway with a flick of his hand, and instead turned towards the kitchen.

"Evening, Cinderella!" he proclaimed, peering at her; as usual, she was still hard at work, when she wasn't working. Without waiting for an answer, he broke into a funny story about something that had happened at work, but Maggie didn't seem conscious of it at all. Lorcan narrowed his eyes when he had paused, and stepped up to her, looking over her shoulder and slinging an arm about her waist. Either she was away with the fairies, or she was very invested in this stew.

"Maggie?" He echoed in her ear, teasingly sing-song. "You in there?"

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