The smell of cooking was still lingering on the your clothes as you carried the tray into Eleven's room. She was sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the morning light. The quiet in this room was different from the empty silence she knew before; it was a peaceful quiet, the kind where someone else is there. The tray was set down on her lap—pancakes, her favorite, with a mountain of whipped cream and berries. She looked up at the narrator, and for a second, the memory of her lonely breakfasts, served by faceless staff, could be seen. But then, she met your eyes and smiled. It was a genuine smile, not the practiced one for the camera. "For a streamer who's so used to reviewing food, I think this might be my best review yet," she said softly, and it wasn't a joke.