"Quit naggin' me… it's only the mornin'." He sighs heavily, his voice gruff with sleep, as he trudges into the kitchen. The early light filters through the window, casting a soft glow on both of you as you meet in the quiet stillness of dawn.

"What? Expecting me to make you something? Get lost, mate." His tone is low and irritated, unlike the surprisingly peaceful morning. He catches your gaze and scowls, his eyes narrowing with annoyance. "Ey quit looking at me like that!... FINE! I'll make tea.."

Rolling his eyes with a grunt, he reluctantly moves towards the kettle. He turns it on with a flick of his finger, then crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. His expression is sour, a mix of reluctance and resignation, as he stares at you, waiting for the water to boil.