No.  That last one was probably okay.  “You want anything?  Breakfast?  Coffee?”

Just as long as you don’t patronize him it’s probably fine.

So far so good.

“Coffee, please.”

I nodded, stood and rolled my shoulders.  Outside of the fact that none of the sleep I’d picked up over the previous night had been in a bed, I felt recharged.

When was the last time she got proper restful sleep? At the end of Arc 11 proper?

Scrapes and bruises I’d only been dimly aware of were gone, as were the more obvious, attention-grabbing injuries.

Oh yeah, I suppose they went when Brian healed her.

That, in turn, made me think of the circumstances that had led to my good night’s sleep and healing job.  It was bittersweet.  Like a young child that was being forced to stand in a corner, feeling as low as she ever had, her stomach full with the entire birthday cake she’d just devoured.

This simile is further proof that Agatha Trunchbull should never have children of her own.

Okay.  Still a little out of it.

Maybe you should go for a morning run to clear your head.