[The sigh Lena replies with isn't exaggerated. It's not even fair to call it theatric. It's outright scenery chewing, her body slumping back against the couch, her whole body melting into it like a deflated balloon.]

Bloody hell, you kept me home so I'd make you dinner. You're sneaky.

[Truth be told, Lena adores cooking for Emily, even if her skills in the kitchen are aggressively mediocre at best. There's something magical about making a meal for the one you love, and the affection that goes into the meal hopefully makes up for what it lacks in taste.]

Well then, out with it. What did you want tonight?