He laughs as he thinks of what a sight that would be and he unconsciously squeezes her hand this time. Feels a little warm in his chest, a familiar and kind feeling.

"You got a way with words."

I did too, once.

"Middle piece only. And milk's gotta be ice-cold, no lukewarm."

The last part is more to himself as he pulls out a glass, but he stares down into it, fridge still closed. It feels almost too familial, makes him feel out of place even among someone who's taken him under wing.