[ the lacrosse sticker leaves her idly wondering about nets and balls (trademarks of so many sports) before she's back to her one handed typing, filling in the to line and attaching her digital notes. it's a link to a folder on her drive, along with an attached file uploaded with her refined list and suggestions for review.

she taps send. his array of breakfast bars merits a glance and a moment's pause; that faint scent of toast is enough to leave her tipping her head just slightly to the side in silent consideration. she takes another sip of the chai, then twists around to work the book out of her messenger bag with her other hand. ]

It's the most important meal of the day.

[ she says, a touch dry, like it's a memory of something said so often to her repeating it now is a reflex. ]

I've sent the email. [ then with a flick of her eyes to the breakfast bars as she sets the book down on the table, sliding it his way; ] Are you planning on eating all of them?

[ she suspects this is another bridging offer without being offered, like the chai. annie isn't sure how she feels about it. the fingers of her free hand twitch, and she feels the weight of her hood at the back of her neck. instead of giving in to tugging on her hoodie's strings, she reaches out, tapping the nail of her index finger on the edge of a shiny wrapper. she quirks up an eyebrow, leaving her question non-verbal.

they have a project to finish. if she's curious as to what motivates him to be how he is, it's mild enough a curiosity that she's more willing to engage. or else she's restless, and she knows that's also true. this close to the full moon leaves her poorly at peace in her own skin. getting out with everyone heading to the nearby mountains to camp for the next few nights is going to be a very welcome relief. ]

I was hoping we'd get this done before the weekend hits.