"Hey," someone says, and it’s him. He’s followed her out to the cold, and he’s still in his gear, holding his mug of tea, half-eaten, folded over, toast in his other hand. They didn't have honey, so the edge of his bite bleeds red jam. He looks... tired, with his messy hair and dark circles and she thinks it might be driving him mad, too, because he's been so lackluster and dim and just...not himself that she overheard Fred joking to George that he's depressed, or something. 