Elliott has the first few pancakes whipped up in only five minutes. He brings them out on a plate balanced on his spread fingertips like some sort of grand offering.

"Presenting the worst pan-" But then he catches sight of her, and all of his confidence drains out of him. "Lisa!"

He moves more swiftly into the living room, the plate clattering onto the coffee table in his rush to kneel in front of the couch and check on her.

Elliott reaches out to move some of her hair out of her face, then stops short and drops his hand to the couch cushion instead. He doesn't know what to do, and can only anxiously watch her tears fall.

"Hey, I- sorry, I- what- what can I do?"