[Spaghetti. Always a good one. He remembers whenever the old lady in the apartment below them would make extra and tell them she made too much. She was real sweet, and her pasta was to die for.

He nods again, but then remembers she’s looking away.]

Sounds good. Are...you hungry too? Because if you're not, you don’t have to for me. I can manage on my own if you only want tea.

[It’s not polite to have people do everything for you. He doesn’t like it either, so he’s stepping toward the fridge now so he can take over if she wants.]