When the bell jingles, Jefferson looks up from the book he's reading-- some fantasy story about knights and magic, which he knows is fiction, even if some parts seem to ring true-- looking at the young woman as if she's a stranger. But then, as she looks about the shop with a dazed and lost sort of expression, he starts to feel this odd tug of familiarity in his mind, and he shakes off the initial assumption that he doesn't know her.

It's Kenzi. She lives here, just like he lives here. No, he's not sure when he met her or what she even does-- trying to pin down any specifics only has him feeling that now-familiar (and entirely frustrating) haziness that's been fogging over much of his mind since his accident.

"Earl grey tea. Lots of milk and sugar. And the biggest cookie I've got," he finds himself saying, as if he's said this a thousand times before. But just as he finishes reciting an order he hasn't even been given, Jefferson blinks, brow furrowed, nose wrinkled slightly, and shakes his head. "That's... what you want, right?" he adds, uncertainty leaking into his voice.