Clark doesn't help all that much with the food. Cutting bread doesn't really count and frankly, Anna not only seems to have things under control, she likes it that way, so he figures staying out of her hair is the best option
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Anna slept on the floor, more or less because she felt like it. Now she's engaged in perusal of the music collection this place has to offer. It doesn't take very long; she pretty much sees the Pink Floyd and makes a beeline.
With a happy sigh, she reclines on the couch while a set of truly decadent speakers informs her that some guy is welcoming his son to the machine.
"Oh, I slept fine when I actually got the opportunity," he explains, just sort of hovering in the entrance way, hands in his pockets. "Chloe just kept me up 'til all hours."
"So I believe we were on the subject of happiness," she says cheerfully. "Specifically, yours, and what I'm going to have to do to get you some. Yeah?"
Anna retreats from her couch-hogging sprawl, sitting more or less neatly in the middle of the couch, and turns off the music with a handy remote control.
"So," she says, softly. "Where d'you want to start?"
With a happy sigh, she reclines on the couch while a set of truly decadent speakers informs her that some guy is welcoming his son to the machine.
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"Making yourself at home?"
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"Yeah, who'd've thought your buddy was into Floyd?" Anna grins. "So how're you?"
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Then he shrugs. "I'm all right. Didn't get a whole lot of sleep, though. I hope your night was better."
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(She's not going to mention her opinion on how he could've managed to sleep better. It's not her place to say.)
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"It's not my style, but it's not bad."
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"Guess we're going to be jumping right in, then. I'm glad I stopped for that espresso."
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"So," she says, softly. "Where d'you want to start?"
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"I have no idea."
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