[The hand squeeze…
[Last night really did happen, didn’t it? Reality has always been impossible to question for Aubrey, the way it’s wont to leave her cold. But winter is over, and breakfast is hot. Today can be better.

[It has to be.]

[She’s not unaware she’s effectively invited herself over, at least for breakfast. People come and go sometimes, Aubrey’s noticed; she spends little time at the treehouse herself, but the path to Sunny’s is well-worn. He doesn’t seem to be expecting visitors, at least not from the way he sits and… doesn’t touch his food. Huh.]

Bon appétit…? [Aubrey, with some hesitation, takes a seat on the couch by him. Her crossed legs are as good a makeshift table for her own food as any.

[Small talk is hard, but she’s not ready to test the illusion yet. It’s bright out, today…]
You slept well.