I'm not sure whether I'll be able to update until Sunday or Monday at this point; we're going to New York and not coming back until Sunday, but I may have Internet access or be able to do it on my phone. So we'll see. I'm still disappointed that SVU isn't filming, but still, I'm excited.

I didn't sleep all night, although Alex did, I think. After a few hours, her sobs subsided and assumed she'd gone to sleep.

Finally, around six, I decided this was a good enough hour to get up. I showered and checked on Alex, who was still sleeping. I jogged across the street to pick up some croissants and fresh orange juice for her because I knew we didn't have any food in the house that she would eat.

By the time I got back, it was a quarter to seven and Alex was still asleep. That was good. She seemed so much more peaceful in her slumber than I'd ever seen her when she was awake.

I brushed a few strands of hair back from her face. She didn't stir, and I sighed before smoothing out her blanket and tucking in the corners. It was almost too intimate a gesture, but Alex was asleep, so it didn't matter. It was really more for my benefit than hers.

I started to tidy up the kitchen, even though it really wasn't all that dirty. Alex was organized almost to the point of compulsiveness and I knew it wouldn't hurt. I threw out the bananas that she considered rotten, even if I would have eaten them anyway. I got rid of the milk that had gone bad yesterday and wiped off the counter and the table.

"Liv?"

I jumped and turned around, relaxing when I saw it was just Alex. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Hey, it's okay. I bought you breakfast."

She took the croissants from me. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"How long have you been up for?" she asked, taking a bite of a croissant. "This needs butter," she commented, rummaging around in my fridge.

I made a face. "I didn't go to sleep. And if you're looking for butter, we don't have any."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you eat?"

"I'm anorexic," I told her seriously. "Or didn't you know?"

"I'm sure you are."

I took a croissant and shoved it in my mouth, nearly choking on it. Alex crossed her arms, watching me half in amusement and half in disdain.

"You ran out of hot water," she informed me.

I groaned. "Wonderful."

She gave me her most winsome smile. "So I guess you're not showering this morning."

I rolled my eyes. "The things I do for you."

"Mm hm," she said noncommittally. "Nothing's going to be open for another hour or so. Since you're not showering, do you want to play chess?"

I considered. Alex always won when we played chess – that logical, majorly brilliant mind at work, I guess. But she seemed happier this morning and she was making a request, so I didn't mind. "Sure."

She smiled, neatly finishing off her croissant and rummaging around for my chess game. When she found it, she wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "It's covered in dust."

I shrugged. "Sorry about that. But you're the only one I ever play chess with it."

"Chess exercises your frontal lobe," she lectured.

"So that's why I constantly make rash decisions and end up in deep trouble," I said sarcastically.

She smirked. "No, that's because you don't weigh potential consequences against potential benefits, not because you don't realize the potential consequences themselves."

I scratched my head. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No, it's not."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's play."

She won, as usual. And she was a sore winner, as usual. "You're rusty from lack of frontal lobe use," she told me.

I sighed. "Could you be any more obnoxious?"

"I'm sure I could be if I so desired."

"That was rhetorical."

She smiled. "You ready to go?"

She seemed so much better today. I couldn't get over it, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Let me grab my coat."

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