Jonathan Sims

John hums in response as he spoons some ground coffee into the filter, the sharp, earthy scent of it permeating the kitchen. That's probably a good sign; he gathers that if anything overtly supernatural was in the area, Daisy would pick up on it. And a little quiet sounds like a welcome respite to him, especially now that his focus is firmly fixed elsewhere.

"Nothing fancy, I should warn you," he comments as he starts it brewing. He shifts to lean back against the counter beside her, a distant part of him still faintly surprised that such close proximity to Daisy has become such an easy, comfortable thing. "Though I do have some cinnamon, if you want to make it gourmet." He punctuates the word with a twiddle of his fingers.