Since Thursday night, then. [Two solid days and some hours extra to spare, and perhaps the only reason he remembers it being Thursday night last was that had been his last opportunity for a meal without the influence of the event at play. He goes quiet as she pours, one mug of tea then another. He must admit that it does look good—but silently, for the moment, as another truth springs from his lips first.]

Let me at least get the tea down first. [He takes the mug when offered, continuing on.] Hopefully by the time I'm done with it you'll be satisfied enough to leave the rest of it be--oh bollocks.

[He sighs; compulsive truth-telling has been a much a bane during the course of this event as the existence of the memories on non-stop loop behind the door.]

Obviously, I didn't want to say that. [Nor, he suspects, does he have any chance of getting out of eating at least one pastry now. Before that, however, he takes a sip of tea—and almost immediately frowns at the taste.]

There's no sugar in this.