[Oh-so-simple, that's why it's going so well]

[And it does. Go.]



[Some barely two-digit number of minutes later, there's loud, obvious fumbling at the door handle before it swings open. Nemesis returns, walking stiff and smelling not-so-faintly of Febreze. It's not quite warm enough in the hideout for her glasses to fog, but her fingers are white, ears and nose red. Entering proper she heads for the kettle, casual]

...Making tea, if you want some.