"I'll take it any way I can get it," he tells her honestly, as he pulls the boots on and adjusts the cuffs of his dark jeans to sit properly before he stands. "But for the record. Black, with just a shot of milk. No sugar."

He moves to the bed and grabs one of his scarves, loops it around his neck, and then picks up the tan duster and shrugs into it. Doc pats one pocket for his gloves, and then nods, more to himself than anything.

Then he glances at her and moves for the open doorway, pausing and inclining his head towards it.

"'Sides, ain't like you bringin' me coffee is part of the job description."