They tense. She’s in their personal space and first instinct is to resist but—
but.
Tommy tries to relax. It means more to them that she’s reaching out, they tell themself.
"Uh. I—" They’re tripping over their tongue, now. "Coffeepleasethanks."
"Coffee," she agrees, and hesitates, pulls back her hand. "I’ll make it, yes."
She turns away, busies herself in the methodic steps of getting coffee brewed. The silence presses against her and fills the kitchen like fog.
"Make yourself at home," she says when she is ready to speak, and turns back to them with a smile. "It will be only a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind."
They nod, eyes flicking around the kitchen while she moves too-slow through the motions. Tommy's head buzzes with too many thoughts and even more doubts in the long moments their mother (the word rattles around their mind like something knocked loose) says nothing.
"No, it's--" a few minutes. They can handle that, count out the taps of their fingers, or-- "That's fine." Tommy shuffles their feet, unsure what to do with the invitation.
