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It was one of those rare mornings where Elise woke up first, the kind that really only ever happened when he had a particularly late night working on the campaign.
David was in the midst of his third cup of coffee, starting to feel somewhat human again, when Elise suddenly elbowed him. He turned, facing her.
"You snore." She stated, simply.
For a moment he just blinked blearily, uncertain as to how he should respond to the comment. He'd assume it was a complaint, but she was smiling -- grinning, really.
(Elise was typically not much of a morning person, so he idly wondered exactly how many cups of coffee she'd had so far.)
"Not all the time," she continued, "Only when you're feeling particularly stressed."
David nodded, smiling briefly at a memory, "Yeah. One of my roommates in college nearly kicked my ass because of that."
She laughed, and suddenly all he wanted to do was spend the whole day telling her ridiculous stories about when he was in college all so that he could listen to her laugh again and again and again.
"I'm glad I know that." Elise said.
"That my roommate nearly kicked my ass?"
She rolled her eyes, punched him in the arm, "No." Then she paused, "Well, yes, but that's not what I was specifically referring to."
"Well, then what are you 'specifically referring to'?" He asked, briefly mimicking her accent, and then ducked her attempt to punch him in the arm again.
"The fact that you snore when you're stressed." She paused, "Well, that answer's a bit too literal. I'm glad I know those sort of things about you, that I've had the time to learn them."
"Me, too." David reached over, lacing his fingers with hers, and allowed the moment to stay serious for a few more seconds before adding, "Except for that Phantom of the Opera phase. I really could've gone without knowing about that."
Elise snorted, "Like you have any room to judge. You have to watch Independence Day whenever it's on TV. You even have the cheesy speech memorized."
"That is for purely practical reasons." He stated, with mock seriousness, "You never know when aliens might invade, leaving you needing to give a very specific inspirational speech."
"You could always just improvise," She offered, "talk about the color of your tie, exactly how scuffed your shoes need to be."
She laughed as she attempted to block the handful of cheerios he threw at her with her free hand.
Briefly, David thought back to the night that he left Elise in the hospital; the night that he thought things were over between them, that all of the stolen chances he'd been allotted had been used up.
He'd never been particularly religious, so he wasn't sure if it counted as a prayer; and, for that matter, he didn't understand the people behind the Adjustment Bureau enough to know if it would even be heard.
But he still thought a 'thank you' to the Chairman.