Kate's at the counter, hair in a careless knot and sporting a camisole and a faded pair of plaid pajama pants beneath her robe. Her hands are curled around a steaming cup of coffee, and she's still waiting for the aspirin to kick in when Bill greets Beckett.

She turns and flashes another tiny, tentative smile before pouring a mug of coffee for Beckett.

"Here," she says, voice soft and empathetic.