From "Night Watch"

The next morning, Antonia padded downstairs into the kitchen and surveyed the kitchen counter (somewhat accusatory, so empty, so clean) and the blinking coffee machine, already dribbling out its necessary black fuel. Something made Antonia pause, as she listened to its gurgling, its faint, reptilian hiss. Her memory jolted, Antonia walked back upstairs to the second floor landing and leaned her ear against the door of the guest bathroom that Grey favored for his grooming. She knocked hard enough for him to hear her over the busy whir of his electric toothbrush.
“Can you eat anything?” She hollered.
He appeared at the door, a flaccid burst of foam around his mouth.
“Hmmm?”
“Can you eat anything, darling, or do you have to go on empty?”
“Ghmghm, ghmmm,” he mumbled, shooing her away.
She went back downstairs and poured coffee into a travel mug. This was for her, Grey didn’t like to drink anything in transit. She fixed him an English Muffin with almond paste in case, wrapped it in aluminum foil, and sat down at the table to wait. He was putting on a show for her, but she knew he hadn’t slept the night before because she hadn’t slept, either. Both of them had simply been too proud to say something in the dark.

When they pulled up in front of the hospital (why were they like this, and always in brick? Factory-like, with noxious fumes tumbling up into the sky from a forgotten wing), Grey undid his seatbelt and stilled her hand on the gear shaft, with his.
“I don’t want you to come in with me,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” she answered, undoing her own belt.
“No,” he said. “I mean it. Just drop me off and go back home, like I’m a schoolboy. I’ll be good as new tonight.”
She bit her lip and looked out the window. They both knew this wasn’t true.
“You’ll need me.”
“I’ll have them call you when I’m ready to go.”
“Like takeout.”
“Be brave.” He said this to her. He was always saying things like this, to her.