"My back," Kate repeats, and this time gestures towards the area. The area, currently supported by a cushion against the chair's own back. She thinks, tiredly, of how a lady's back is never supposed to touch the back of a chair, and she thinks of how it's nearly impossible anyway if you're fully dressed even to middle-class. But here, now, she can and is because sitting up straight aches and she's pulled something.

Bugger it all.

But to him, she just then shakes her head. "No. It just needs rest. Quiet. But you, you can sit, if you want. Sit on a chair?"

It's almost like standing in front of an audience, talking with him and illustrating her words with pointing.