[Her smile grows a bit bigger, sending her nose scrunching up.] Okay. Thanks. I should be out of your hair by then - don’t worry. [She shuts the sketchbook with the pencil inside and carries it with her back to their table. The cakes do catch her attention along the way and she nearly ends up staring at them. Sandwich time, dammit.]

Don’t worry about it. You go do you. I’ll be fine.

[He’ll barely even notice she’s there. Sure she’s clearing the plates that had been brought out for their tea spread in record time (the girl’s got a metabolism on her), but she’s also quietly observing and storing away details and images and ideas for later. She‘ll ask to come back for atmosphere, sure. But this is when she does the bulk of her planning.

If he watches her at all while she keeps to herself, he’ll notice her copying the details of the various pieces of china, taking into consideration the utensils and the table settings. The food itself. The menus. She keeps herself busy while she eats, her pencil rarely leaving her hand for more than a minute or two at a time.

She thinks about roses and flowers and gardens in general. Sometimes she uses her phone, plugging in search terms, adding things to her seemingly never-ending barrage of browser tabs. The time goes by quickly for her.]