"Almost," Alfred said in response to her hand gesture. Abandoning the pillow, he moved to where she was sitting and flopped down next to her, then reached up to move her fingers with his own. "This one just a little lower — there. And the thumb spread out a little more, here. Like that," he said, looking over the entire hand again and nodding. He glanced at her other hand, still laying on her lap, but decided not to say anything about it. She didn't strike him as the sort to wear gloves, not if she was just visiting a friend, but it was December so it was hardly so unusual it was worth remarking on. And if she wanted to talk about it, she would have brought it up.

"Let me get the pillow again and you can try it," he said, reaching behind him to collect both the pillow he'd just demonstrated on and the knife he'd used to cut it. "And you can just repeat it after me, the first time, if you want." He sat crosslegged on the sofa, his knees brushing hers, and rested the pillow on his lap before making another long cut in the fabric. He reached out to touch her hand and moved it into place above the tear, then let go, putting his hands on his knees. "Ready?"