When Oswin gets into the kitchen, Moriarty's just pouring the coffee. It's not good coffee necessarily: It's early twenty-first century instant, courtesy of his room's seemingly constantly stocked cupboards.

(It took him off guard, at first, the futuristic kitchen with its buttons and lights and myriad jars of tiny coloured granules, but there's little point being a genius if you can't figure out how to make instant coffee.)

He offers her a smile. "Hello. Here." A mug of coffee is slid down the worktop towards her.