She'd gotten both. She's slept some - not as much as she would have if he was home, and not as well, but enough that she wasn't about to collapse, and she'd been eating enough. What he'd said a while ago - about needing to be better, about all he needed was for her to take care of herself, that's what rang true to her. She needed this, needed things to be okay with them, even if she was pretending a little. That's why she was here, she was in normal clothes, she let the sunshine in and herself smile and she let herself pretend that it was all okay because if she did that, for right then, it literally was okay.

"At least it's only the night snack that sucks, right?" She moves to sit on the edge of his bed - he wasn't centered, quite, any longer - so she had the room to perch, the kutte in her lap. "I took it, of all things, to a shoe repair guy. He knew how to clean the leather and the patches so they weren't stained." It wasn't pristine - he'd been wearing it for fifteen years, it wouldn't be pristine, but it did look better, with a newer lustre to the leather that was rare. She ran her fingers over it, and then they found his on her knee, and she squeezed his hand. "I should have it done because you're ready to be released. I thought... it would be good, for you to have it back." Even if the club wasn't here anymore, it was still a part of him.