The visit had already been scheduled, part of Martin's cyclically renewed desire to be better about staying in touch with his friends, about a week prior. Neither he nor Greta are in much position to be spontaneous these days, being busy and largely home-bound adults, and much as he felt a bit like a child scheduling a play-date, it was necessary to plan in advance.

What's awkward is now, standing on the front step waiting for her to answer the door, practically buzzing with relatively recent information, he feels as though it will seem like a week-long premeditated trap meant to corner her into answering a lot of very silly questions. He doesn't want to seem like this is the reason he's popping around for tea after a long lull in their friendship. But he can't not ask about it. It's inevitable.

He smiles when she opens the door, answers her invitation for a hug with warm, grateful enthusiasm, and manages to make light small talk as he follows her in to sit. So far so normal.

It's when she asks what he's been up to that he falters a bit. The real answer is Not much, and to give anything more specific than that would be ridiculous under almost any other circumstances.

But.

"Well," he hedges, fidgeting with his teacup, "I mean, it's funny, John and I never had much time for, erm... frivolities, back home. Things were always a bit dire. So maybe it sounds ridiculous to say we've been watching a lot of telly, like that's even worth mentioning, but..." He clears his throat. "Anyway we've, er, been working through a few different things, depending on mood, and..."

He laughs a little at his own shyness, recognizing it as overwrought and absurd even as he can't seem to pull himself out of it. "So the point is I only just learned you were on Bake-Off," he finally blurts out, trying not to grin too stupidly even as his composure starts to crumble.