[At length there's a pounding at the hideout door--heavy, more of a bash or kick than a knock. By the third pound she gets the door open, stomping in with a huge box of stuff as she kicks the door shut behind her.]

I'm home~

[She's changed to loungewear, and kicks off slippers before setting the box down on their pilfered cafe table. She pulls out the requested snacks and a few more (puffed corn snacks and some non-yanyan sweets); tea and juice and bourbon along with the rum. Once those've been unpacked, she tosses a blanket at his head.]

Now you can warm up the mattresses. Plug that in, wouldja?

[She bends to their other jury-rigged plug and hooks up an electric kettle.]