They made it to the coffee shop in only a few short minutes. There was no line, so they received his cup of coffee - black - immediately and found a comfortable seat beside the window. Graham looked mildly uncomfortable when she sat down in it, but she didn’t question why, naturally assuming it was his knife-wound that inconvenienced him. While he drank his coffee, he called the pizza place and ordered their dinner. She watched the light return to his eyes as he took hesitant sips from his cup. The steam coiled up from the coffee and dispersed in the air currents above them. She didn't have anything to say, and so they sat quietly, observing the passers-by outside on the sidewalk, listening to the soft instrumental music playing from the speakers mounted in the corners of the shop.
Once he'd finished his coffee, they rose – he much slower and with greater care - and walked the two blocks to the pizza (shop), despite her gentle protest that he would over-do it and further prolong his healing. The speculative slant to his eyes when she said that reminded her of their activities the night before and she shut up, blushing furiously and looking down at the sidewalk in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. It was hard for her to believe it had only been the night before; she didn't know why, but it felt as if it had been days. She supposed if he had survived such activity that a short walk would not hurt him much more.
The pizza smelled delicious and her stomach rumbled like a small, vicious critter had taken up residence inside of her. She could hardly wait to return to the condominium and eat, which of itself was a strange feeling for her. Her vessel had been hungry before, but the prospect of enjoying the food had never crossed her mind. She supposed eating granola and celery may have had to do with that, but couldn't be sure.
In any case, she was a little heavier on the accelerator during their return trip, but Graham said nothing. Perhaps he was especially looking forward to the pizza as well.