She hums a little as he slips from her hands. And lays there, eyes closed for a few moments.

Damn it, food sounds good. She slips out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her to cover her shoulders. Even with a fire in the fireplace, it's a bit chilly in here. Probably the snow still falling outside the windows. She pads off towards the kitchen, and takes a few minutes to make them a plate of bread and meat, a little fruit and cheese. She finds another bottle of wine and uncorks it, but doesn't even bother finding glasses. Idly, she turns on the sound system and finds a CD of Christmas songs (jazz covers, just enough holiday music without being overbearingly sweet.)

Eventually, she takes the plate and the bottle and makes her way into the bathroom, munching on a handful of grapes as she sets their lunch down.