Ned hadn't expected anyone would be in the hallway. It's too early for any of his housemates to be awake, and even if they were, there's no reason they would be lingering silently a few feet outside Daneel's door, waiting to ambush him. He starts, lets out a quiet but undignified gasp that quickly morphs into a relieved half-laugh when he sees that it is just River.

"Good morning, River," he says, with just the tiniest hint of prissy reproach in his tone, but it isn't genuine, and he knows that she'll know it. Trying to convince her that sneaking up on him isn't nice is a battle he'd given up a while ago. Besides, it's always good to see her, even so abruptly and unexpectedly.

If it were anyone else, he might be coming up with an excellent excuse for why he'd been in Daneel's room just now. Maybe putting some of those lying skills Meyer had started to teach him to practice. But with River there's no point whatsoever, so he doesn't even bother. He hasn't really discussed what's been going on between the two of them with River, though he has the feeling that she's aware of it. He's gotten used to thinking of River as being aware of most things that are going on.

So rather than offer up any kind of explanation, he merely says, "How about I make us some breakfast?"

Because Ned is happy to see her, cares about her, and this is how he expresses it. He'd had almost a decade and a half of solitary breakfasts before he came here. The loneliness of living alone had always felt keenest to Ned during the morning meal, starting his day in silence, the way he would end it. Nothing like the chaos and clamor of boarding school breakfasts - not that he'd enjoyed those much, either. But this is somewhere in-between and delightful.