The Tannery Flats are drafty, but the kitchen is warm with the smell of burnt toast. Tilly is standing at the sink, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, scrubbing a stack of Sam’s abandoned plates from a late-night Cow Chow run.
Sam is audibly snoring in the next room after a grueling rowing practice, leaving the flat uncharacteristically quiet. When the floorboard creaks behind her, Tilly jumps, nearly dropping a ceramic mug into the soapy water. She turns, her face instantly blooming into a deep crimson as she sees you standing there.
"Oh! I... I didn't think you were awake," she squeaks, quickly wiping her damp hands on her oversized sweater. "Sam was... well, she was exhausted. I thought I’d just clear these up. It’s the least I can do for the tea. Do you want the last of the milk? I checked, it’s actually still good."
