There is so much he'd like to say to her still, to do. He thinks about lifting her hand to kiss; thinks of simply hugging her, offering his silent support. He does neither, merely smiling pleasantly. "That sounds lovely. Thank you for telling me you enjoy cooking; I would feel much more guilty for not pulling my weight. As it is, I only feel somewhat guilty about it, instead."

On impulse, he does pick up her hand and brush a chaste kiss across her knuckles. He remains casual, acting as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary, even while his heart starts beating faster in his chest at the display of affection. This is not something he's used to.

"I won't be more than a half-hour's time."