Cassandra steps in, smiling with some bemusement at Crichton's words. She's dressed, though rather more hastily than she might ordinarily; a knit shirt instead of a buttoned blouse over her calf-length skirt, with no waistcoat or jacket.

"I can't say I've given it much thought. Chicken and waffles? Is that a usual breakfast food, in your world?"

These cabins are always such close quarters; she realizes that she's standing where Arthur will have to cross to come out of the restroom, and shifts to one side, nudging up against the chest of drawers.