There's confusion on her face at first, because she thinks he must be messing with her. Either that, or it's a trap for him to scold her for pushing herself too quickly. That causes her to hesitate, up until she realizes he isn't stopping her. The dimpled grin that breaks out across her face is pleased and confident.

She's got this. It's just sandwiches. How hard can it be?

All she has to do is push herself to stand up. Which she has to grip hold of his arm to do, but she only winces a little. And she hardly makes any pained sounds of discomfort. Once she's on her feet, it's just a matter of leaning in to steal a kiss before she's shuffling off into the tiny kitchen to work.

Which she does slowly, stubbornly refusing to admit that she should be resting. Yes, she hurts. But is that going to stop her from making peanut butter sandwiches and cutting off the crust? No.

"We should talk," she says about halfway through the second sandwich. "About what happened."

He's likely going to stubbornly refuse. But she's ready for that possibility.