In the Kitchen, Daphne is bent over, taking a tray out of the oven. Niles sidles in, apparently innocently.
Niles: Oh, Daphne, you're here, too.
Daphne: My goodness, Dr. Crane - shouldn't you be out there mixing?
Niles: Oh, don't mind me. I'm just getting some ice. [puts the ice to his forehead]
Daphne: Lovely party, isn't it?
Niles: Yes, it is.
Daphne: [chopping herbs] Look at this, fresh fennel. [picks up a piece and sniffs it] Smells wonderful, doesn't it?
Niles: [smelling Daphne's hair instead] It certainly does.
Daphne: [catching Niles] Dr. Crane, were you sniffing my hair?
Niles: Why would I do a thing like that? I'm a happily married man - I love my Maris.
Guest: [entering kitchen] Where should I put this coat?
Niles: Just throw it on the bed.
Daphne found Dr. Crane lying on his back under the piano, his hands trembling as they rested over his eyes. For a moment she just watched him: His chest rising and falling quickly, a muscle in his cheek twitching. She tried to imagine him as a little boy hiding under the piano at home and worrying about a bully at school or having to go to Little League. It was very easy to see, much to her surprise. She could see a small, frail little boy with neatly combed blonde hair and fair skin huddled under a beautiful oak piano, his knees drawn up to his chin.
With glass of water in hand, she got down and joined him.
"Dr. Crane," she said quietly, not wanting to frighten him. Despite her quiet tone, he jolted up and bumped his head on the top of the piano. He muttered a few obscenities and rubbed the area on his skull that had been injured, and then he noticed Daphne.
"Dr. Crane, I've brought you some water," she said, showing him the glass. When he didn't say anything, she continued. "...Are you feeling alright? I'm sorry if I frightened you,"
He took the water with whispered thanks, and drank it all in one breath. "I'm sorry, Daphne," he said, setting the empty glass down on the outskirts of the shadow the two of them were hiding under. "I suppose I'm just a bit on edge."
"It's not because of me, is it?"
That was an answer within a question, she realized. Of course it was her that had driven him to this sort of anxiety. He knew that she knew, and that was probably horrible for him. If it were her, she'd feel a bit of an idiot in that person's company. Not that Dr. Crane was an idiot, but there was a very good chance he felt like one. And then she had brought up the hair-smelling...
She really needed to learn a bit more tact, she decided. If it were her who had smelled his hair, she certainly wouldn't like to talk about it. In fact, she was amazed he hadn't blushed at the statement she had made. She was also amazed the expression in his eyes hadn't changed from horrified to homicidal when she had mentioned his father let the cat out of the bag concerning that bit of information.
Something else hit her then, too: She was under the piano with him. She had invaded his personal space... Snatched his teddy away, cuddled up under his security blanket. I'm such an idiot, she thought, closing her eyes. Here I am, in Dr. Crane's place of comfort when he most likely wants to be left alone. I suppose the only thing to do now is excuse myself...
"I'll just be going now," she said, feeling unbelievably awkward. She could feel her face turning red as she turned to exit the area beneath the piano...
And then she felt something else. Dr. Crane's hand closed around her own, and when she looked back at him his expression was so despairing and unwell she nearly went to hug him -- but knowing how inappropriate that would be, she settled for giving his hand a small squeeze.
"I'm sorry," he said again, slowly letting go of her hand and running a hand through his hair. He then pulled the old trick of casually glancing at his watch, feigning shock, and announcing that he really had to be going.
Daphne didn't mind that he left. After all, he had every reason to be uncomfortable in her presence. He was in love with her and she thought of him as a friend... If it were her, she'd be awfully embarrassed...
Then again, Dr. Crane was also much braver than she was. If she were in his position, she'd set up camp in her bedroom with chocolates and depressing movies. And she'd never leave. Except for more chocolates.
Maybe he had a reason to come over. Maybe he'd run out of sherry and didn't have quite enough money for another bottle, so he'd come to borrow some. But then, wouldn't he have said so?
Maybe he had come to see her. Maybe seeing her was his equivalent of a sad movie.