"Thanks," Darcy takes the glass and forces herself upright enough to drink it, finishing the whole thing in an effort to try and feel less weird.

Her fingers tighten on the glass. It's hard not to mourn all the little acts of caretaking he did, knowing they're hinged on the roles they were playing. Not the overbearing parts, not the setting a course for her life parts, but the little acts of mothering like this. Speaking of,

"You pull up okay after everything yesterday though?"