[ Her voice comes from down a sidehall, muffled by the linen closet door. There's a lace runner in her hands when she shuts it again — a pointless confection in terms of decor but Ruth can afford good things for herself. (What Saul lacks, she has, and where Saul has compulsion, she has temperance.) ]

Oh? Asking me about fun, are you? [ She gives the runner a flap, trying to air out the dust and creases. ] I'm just cleaning to pass the time. Really, Sally.

[ Her heels click in sharp, even rhthym as she returns to lift a nearby lamp and spread the doily out beneath it. ] And, since you're never going to bring it up yourself, no, you don't like you're having fun at all.